Paths Of Providence
by soarenworth
Summary: Located in the Marvel's Cinematic Universe, a parallel universe is created when an iconic Agent named Phil Coulson finds and adopts a child in the New Mexico Desert. This is their story leading up to & eventually passing the events of the Avengers (2012). Feel free to review!
1. Pt 1 Ch 1: Unidentified Objects

The day had been yet another typically hot summer day for New Mexico. Usually the desert settled as the sun set over the faraway mesa bluffs, but tonight was exceptionally slow to cool. All through the tiny town of Magdalena, windows stood open in the hope of letting in a tiny stray breeze. Even the faintest hint of wind would be a welcome respite from the lingering heat of the day. If people hadn't been languishing on front porches or dozing off by open windows in the hope of finding a bit of evening chill, the whole astounding event might have gone completely unnoticed.

A clear night sky suddenly turned into a swirling mass of light and color. Greens, pinks, and fire-colored orange flashes split the darkness. The clouds of light spiralled around like a hurricane but there was nary a breeze in the oppressively hot August sky. A low rumbling growl accompanied the fantastic light show. The entire desert trembled. Stones skipped across the street. Coffee mugs full of thick diner coffee on the little town cafe rattled with the force of energy boiling in the sky just above them.

Townspeople gathered in the middle of first street in the tiny town of Magdalena, looking up at the peculiar sky as it angrily boiled and zapped. Evening meals were left abandoned and Friday night televisions prattled on with their regular programming. Most people were catching reruns of Dallas, but even that was ignored in favor of something far more impressive in the sky.

"Oh my God!"

"Yeah, I think it might be..."

High above them, a black helicopter shot toward the storm as it fizzled and popped among the high wisps of cirrus clouds. Phil Coulson knelt near the edge of the open helicopter door, looking down over the silica-sparkling deserts of New Mexico. He would have to make up some kind of story to explain the storm. But the folks of New Mexico were used to the strange and bizarre. Heck, they were the home of Roswell... but that wasn't nearly as exciting as the conspiracy theorists made it out to be.

"Think we found the mother ship?" he joked over his shoulder to the young lieutenant assigned to him, Maria Hill. She didn't seem much amused by his joke but not much seemed to amuse her anyway, so it was par for the course.

"I think we would have picked up some kind of communications over the radio waves if it was the mother ship rather than just static."

"It was a joke," smiled Phil cheerily, "We're allowed to joke on the job, you know. Sometimes it is the only thing that keeps you from going absolutely out of your mind."

"I know that."

"Alright, so long as you do," replied Phil as their helicopter circled around the edge of the quickly-dissipating storm, "Let's go."

A few minutes later, they stepped out of the helicopter and ducked to avoid the helicopter blades. Agents from a number of other transports spilled into the middle of the desert patch. Several large crates were waiting for them and armored security experts were establishing a perimeter. The first spotlight clicked on, halogen flickering to life to reveal a peculiar scrawl across the desert rocks. Dark embers sparkled with flecks of mica created an intricate pattern against the lighter colored reddish gold sand of the Jornada del Muerto desert.

"We will need samples of all this," said Phil to a couple of technicians, "We'll need to scan for magnetic fields, radioactivity, heat signatures, signs of life... the usual what-have-yous. Report back upon completion."

"Sir!"

The small crowd dispersed, going about their jobs. Phil took the moment to check his watch. It was 10:17pm. The storm began at 9:44pm and lasted approximately twenty five minutes. It was a bit amazing that there wasn't a crowd out here even after such a short amount of time. Then again, it was a remote stretch of godforsaken desert, it was unlikely that there weren't many people around to begin with. He said as much to Maria.

"Finding a source for this should be easy, then," she said, flicking a small flashlight around the site, "If there isn't much to begin with, there aren't many leads to follow up."

"I get the sense that you have an idea."

"Trinity nuclear testing was only about forty miles from here. Could it be something involved with that?"

"That site hasn't been active since the 1940's. I don't think this has anything to do with radiation but we'll check anyway and see if we can pick up some isotopes."

"Are you sure that the testing stopped back then. We have a lot of sites that are technically closed up but..."

"Not this one," interjected Phil quickly, "It was the first. Continued testing wouldn't just ruin the environment but it would be... I dunno... some sort of desecration of the memory. It was such a big event. Such a huge part of the modern world."

Maria nodded and looked out across the desert, " _Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds."_

"Yeah," sighed Phil as he looked up into the sky, chills running up and down his spine at the sound of the ancient words. Somehow it seemed more powerful coming from her, someone who knew the words intimately. "But we will still check for radiation. I'll call up the folks at Trinity and make sure there is nothing funny going on. We'll cover all the bases just to be safe. Rule out every possibility."

"Fair enough. What do I need to do?"

"We will need to drop by the Very Large Array in order to get their data. Maybe their equipment has something that we didn't pick up. If you can go and visit in a bit, then that will be a big help. For now, head up forensics team B. I'll take the A team. When Agent Carter gets here from Roswell, she will bring up the cosmic radiation team."

"When will that be?"

"Any minute."

Phil scanned the dark skies for signs of the helicopter. All was quiet now. In this case, it was actually a good thing. Although, some little part of him kind of wanted to see the light show a little longer. Catching a slight glimpse out of a moving helicopter wasn't quite good enough for him.

"Look out," said Maria, looking over his shoulder, "Rubberneckers."

Standing up near the barricade was someone who was very apparently not SHIELD personnel. He wore a loud Hawaiian-print shirt and shorts with birkenstocks and thick puce socks. A fishing hat covered his grizzled hair and shaded his pickle green eyes. The rest of his face was covered with a thick, dark mountain-man beard streaked with steely gray.

"I'll take care of it," sighed Phil. It was a part of the job to do PR and make sure the public heard the story. Was it the truth? Not always. He tried his best to be honest but how much of a panic would it cause if the public knew they had been in contact with alien civilizations for going on five years now? Stock markets would crash, there would be riots in the streets, rivers of blood, cats and dogs living together, mass hysteria. Sometimes it was better to be ignorant and accept the fact that the plane crash was just a error in a training exercise.

"Hey, man, what's going on?" said the man at the barricade.

"Not much. Just investigating the lights from the sky."

"You CIA? FBI? NSA?"

"We're from the Very Large Array," lied Phil easily, "We relocated some of our equipment out here to get a better read on that solar storm."

"I dunno on what planet that's a solar storm," said the man as he absently stroked his scraggly beard, "I've lived here all my life and seen a good deal of weird shit. That ain't a solar storm."

"Well," smiled Phil, trying desperately to keep his cool and shoo this fellow off as fast as possible, "We shall see what we find out. Our preliminary readings indicate it was a solar storm."

"Do you mind if I quote you?"

"I beg your pardon?" blinked Phil.

"I run a little newsletter, The Roswell Observer. It is all about funny things in the sky."

"Funny things in the sky?" said Phil mirthlessly, fearing the worst, "Like… atmospheric phenomena?"

"Sometimes, but mostly aliens. You know, the grays and the little men in Area 51. All the things that aren't of this world."

"I highly doubt there is anything like that around here," said Phil, "And you can quote me on that."

"That's the same areal phenomena as occurred back in Coventry in 1948, as recorded by RAF pilots and then again in the Bermuda Triangle in 1979 when the USS Kelvin went missing. This is indicative of a cross-dimensional tear. Look at the gravitational pull. You'll see I'm right!"

Phil sighed. Whenever he had to clean up some sort of mess such as this, there were always a few conspiracy nuts roaming about . It was par for the course but didn't get any less annoying as time went on.

"Okay, sir, are we done here?"

"Oh, we're never done," said the man, pulling out a cigarette from an inner jacket pocket and lighting it, "But I'll leave now before I get black-bagged and wake up in a basement in some government warehouse."

"Don't tempt me," grumbled Phil under his breath as he gestured for two SHIELD security agents to come and make sure the man actually left.

Phil saw the lights of the third incoming helicopter before he heard it. The aircraft touched down like a raptor next to the other vehicles. A thin streak of white light jumped from the back cockpit with a case in tow. Her bright blond hair caught in a tangled mess about her head, kicked up by the rotating helicopter blades.

"Agent Carter?" he called out, "Nice of you to drop by."

"Cosmic radiation team reporting for duty," she said, saluting very officially, "Agents Morse and Parker are here as well."

"It seems Fury has sent only the best of the best."

She blushed a bit, "Sir."

"What is his ETA?"

"Within the hour," she said, brushing her hair back down into place with her fingers, "He is still at the debriefing with Interpol regarding the Maggia matter."

"Let's try to be nearly done by the time he gets there," said Phil, "And before the conspiracy nuts swarm the place."

"Yes, sir," she turned quickly and headed back toward the helicopter, "Agent Morse, take soil samples and microbe cultures. Parker, we need a geiger counter sweep for coordinates A-34, H-27, E-75, and M-116. Report the levels to Director Fury when he arrives."

Confident, the situation was under control, Phil walked back into the middle of the site, examining the peculiar, sparkling design in the sand. A darker, slightly shimmering, pattern rested over the lighter sand. It looked almost Celtic or something like that. Camera crews were photographing it as well as taking aerial shots via satellite and reconnaissance jet. It would be sent to cryptographers and iconography experts for analysis. Out of all the strange things in this case, the pattern in the sand had to be one of the most peculiar.

Equally as peculiar was seeing Maria a few steps away, wearing sunglasses... at dusk. Upon drawing closer, Phil realized there was a little blinking light along the side indicative of night vision. She turned her head from side to side, scanning the desert. There wasn't really a definite answer to what they were looking for. More than anything, they were just scanning for anomalies amidst an even larger anomaly.

"Anything unusual?" asked Phil as he drew closer to the young lieutenant, "I mean, more unusual?"

"Nothing," she noted, "A few heat signatures in the distance but most of those are things like heat pockets, uneven cooling, or what have you."

"Well, that doesn't help much," muttered Phil, "We're going to bring the metal detectors out to check for debris. Want to come with?"

"Might as well," she said as she took off the sunglasses and blinked uneasily at the change in lighting, "I'm getting nothing here."

A few moments later, the team was locked and loaded with metal detectors, Geiger counters, and other mechanisms and tools. Phil led the pack with Maria just along the side, swinging the sensor section of a Geiger counter from side to side. Because of the squealing and whining of the different machines, Phil didn't hear the strange sound for quite some time. There were more squeaks and whines but again it didn't register with Phil. It was only when there was an especially loud whine that he turned and headed into the brush.

"Agent Coulson!" called Maria, "Phil? Where are you going?"

"Agent? Report!" squeaked his walkie-talkie.

He didn't respond. If he heard what he thought he heard, it would burst the case wide open. It would be something that wasn't supposed to be there. The sagebrush parted on either side of him. He reached out into the darkness and got stuck by an aggressive prickly pear cactus for his trouble.

Perhaps the sound was just his imagination. Perhaps it was just the sound of the equipment. His hand was bleeding a bit from the cactus. He would look once again when he had a light but gathering data was more important right now.

Then, he heard the noise again: a babbling, mewling noise. He turned quickly. Perhaps it was his imagination, but it sounded like there was a young child out in the middle of the wilderness. The sound was so clear and close, it couldn't be the machines.

"Maria! Bring a light!"

"Did you find something?"

"I don't believe this," muttered Phil as he knelt down and reached out toward a patch of darkness.

Phil picked up the tiny baby and cradled it close to his chest. She was bound in a light, gauzy fabric with intricate details but it did little to protect her from the elements. The little body was chilled in the desert night. Her little, chubby limbs were limp and he feared that the poor thing was dead. It broke his heart to find a baby corpse in the desert. It made him wonder what could have possibly happened. He hoped it wasn't foul play.

After a moment, to his relief, the little baby wiggled in his arms, little fists punching the air a bit and legs kicking. The infant coughed once and then whined a bit. The whine turned in a high pitched scream. Phil held the little girl close.

It occurred to him that the baby was likely suffering from exposure so he wiggled off his jacket and wrapped it around the infant to protect her from the night. He rocked her back and forth against his chest until her cries became soft, babbling whines.

Maria ran up behind him and held a flashlight up so she could see what was in Phil's arms. She gasped.

"It's a little girl," said Phil, holding her up so Maria could see her properly. The girl had a head covered with of reddish brown peach fuzz and dark eyes. She cooed up at the light, reaching one fist out to try to touch it. Her smile was infectious and Phil couldn't help but grin a bit himself.

"You've gotta be kidding me," said Maria, "There is a baby out here?"

"Yeah. I… I just found her by that bush."

"She can't have been out here that long, maybe the person who dumped her is still around. They wouldn't be able to get past the perimeter without being seen."

"That's not precisely true," noted Phil, "It's dark out here and if they know the hiding spots in the desert, they could be already gone."

"She might have some radiation or other debris from the storm on her," said Maria, "We need to take samples from her and decontaminate her before anything else."

"No, we need to get her something to drink," said Phil, "There's no telling how long she's been out here. Let's… take it easy. Worry about the funny rocks and stuff."

"Sir?"

Phil hurried back to the base, desperate to find a bottle of water or something for the little baby. She seemed actually fairly calm but it could be due to dehydration. He finally found a big tank in the back of a truck and settled down in the cool.

The baby chewed on the corner of his jacket. She couldn't be very old at all, her teeth hadn't even come in. Her wide eyes glanced around, trying to take in everything. Soft coos escaped her lips as she tried to reach out toward the different moving objects around them.

Phil dipped his finger into the jug of water and allow the water to drip into her mouth. She eagerly swallowed up the sweet water, continuing to coo softly. Eventually, Phil's finger drew too close and she grabbed a hold. There was no breaking the infant's grasp. She wasn't going to let go.

"Hey," smiled Phil, trying to pull his finger away, "I need that."

She giggled, continuing to hold onto him. They started a little game of tug-of-war until the little girl's eyes began to flutter and blink. She appeared tired. Phil protectively pulled his jacket around her and pulled her tight to his chest. Tiny hands grabbed at his shirt, keeping him pulled close. Something awakened in Phil's chest. It was warm, comfortable. It felt like the baby was meant to be clasped tightly in his arms. She was exactly the right size and shape to rest against him. A perfect fit.

"Where did you come from?" he asked the little girl as she yawned next to his ear. It wasn't like he expected an answer, he just wanted a clue. "You don't happen to know what is going on, do you?"

He held her up in front of him so he could get a better look at her. She fussed, obviously frustrated that she had been removed from the comfortable spot between his arm and his chest. Rolling his eyes, Phil replaced her and she quieted down again.

Another helicopter was landing not far away. Sighing, Phil stood and started walking toward it, holding the girl tightly. Chances were that it was Fury finally arriving. It could also be another team of scientists or security personnel. Frankly, he was hoping for the latter. If he could spirit the girl out of there early, then there would be less questions to try to answer.

Unfortunately it was Fury, eyepatch and all but he was too busy talking with Agent Morse to notice the extra person in their midst. It really wasn't so much talking as it was yelling as the top of his lungs in response to the powering down of the helicopters.

"Have we checked with Mar-vell and the others to see if this is their deal?"

"They say it's beyond them," said Agent Morse as she brushed a blond hair from her face and adjusted her large gold aviator glasses, "Their sensors say it comes from our atmosphere. Our satellites shorted so there are no readings from there."

"Within our own atmosphere?"

"Yes, sir. An energy surge in our atmosphere."

"How does that happen?"

"We don't know."

"Well then, find out," ordered Fury, "Get in contact with the folks at NORAD, NOAA, NASA, the whole alphabet soup. Get Parker and start canvassing the university circuit for the usual experts. Our stuff is shorted, let's see if anyone else is still functioning."

"Yes, sir."

Phil walked up to Fury but as he did so, the little baby girl began to scream. He stepped away from the helicopter blades until she calmed down. Turning back, he could see the frown plastered all across Fury's face.

Fury had to wait for the helicopters to completely power down before he spoke, "Please tell me that isn't what I think it is."

"Uh, what did you think it was?" asked Phil, tapping the fussy baby on the back to calm her.

"Tell me that isn't a kid."

"It is."

"I don't believe this," said Fury, "Agent Morse, do you believe this?"

"With difficulty, sir."

The girl finally stopped screaming and settled down. Phil sighed, "Look, she was in the desert. She was all alone, dehydrated, and probably scared."

"So, now we have this thing-"

"Evelyn."

Fury, along with the rest of the surrounding agents, paused for a long second, looking from the baby to Phil and back again. The little girl giggled and started to chew against the edge of Phil's jacket, which he was using as a blanket for the moment. He looked back up to Phil.

"You named it?"

"Her," corrected Phil.

"Don't get technical with me," ordered Fury, "We don't know what it is. It could be a part of our investigation."

"Or she could be a poor kid dumped in the desert who needs someone to look after her," said Phil as he shifted his arms to have a more stable grip on the baby and keep her head cradled comfortably against the crook of his arm, "We don't know for sure."

"Coulson, it's an 0-8-4."

Phil looked down into his arms as the girl reached forward and tried to grab her toes, babbling the whole time. She finally managed to snag her big toe and tried to put it in her mouth.

"And… this… is an 0-8-4 sir?"

"We don't know what it is or where it comes from so, yes, by definition it is an 0-8-4."

"It is a very big coincidence that we find a baby in the desert right during a big solar storm," noted Maria, who had returned from scoping the area with the metal detectors.

"And my job doesn't let me believe in coincidences," said Fury, crossing his arms stubbornly.

Phil frowned, "So we're going to lock her up in a lab somewhere?"

"For the time being, yes. At least until we know what is going on and have some time to observe her."

"Sir, that is completely unacceptable."

Fury raised an eyebrow, "Oh, really? I'm sorry, I just want to make sure she isn't going to turn into a four story rattlesnake and take over Albuquerque but _clearly_ I'm being the irrational one here."

Phil blinked, "Have we _ever_ had a four story rattlesnake try to take over Albuquerque?"

"No, but I wouldn't be surprised if it did. Nothing in this world shocks me anymore."

Evelyn laughed. Her little dark eyes sparkled and a toothless smile spread across her chubby baby face. Her legs kicked against Phil's arm and he was surprised at the strength she had. His arm actually hurt a little bit.

"Gentlemen... we are getting off topic," said Maria, "We need to figure out what to do with Phil's kid."

"Oh, not you too," grumbled Fury under his breath. He crossed his arms, looking back and forth between the two of them. He pointed to Maria, "I assume you are siding with him?"

"I'm not siding with anyone. Let's figure out if the child is or has anything we should be concerned about. If there isn't anything, then I say we let her go. And we certainly can't just drop her off back in the desert. If Phil wants to look after her, and maybe adopt her, I don't see any problem with that. There isn't any sense keeping her locked in a lab if she is just a kid who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I think everyone can agree to that."

Fury looked down at the troublesome pair, "You know, normally, people want to take home a puppy... not a kid!"

Phil paused for a moment, "Is that a yes, Sir?"

"Oh, good God, knock yourself out," grumbled Fury, waving a hand dismissively as he turned to walk away, "Go ahead and take her after we finish the testing. I don't care anymore."

Reluctantly, Phil handed the baby off to Agent Carter. He lingered around the mobile testing unit while Evelyn was scanned, swabbed, and examined. Meanwhile, a nurse tended to removing the cactus needles from his hand, although Phil found himself more concerned about getting custody of the child. Not to Phil's surprise, they couldn't find a single thing that was different or out of the ordinary about the girl. She was a healthy baby, save for a thin coating of magnetized dust clinging to her.

"I thought she was just a little girl in the wrong place at the wrong time," said Phil when he finally received the swaddled baby back in his arms. She was sleeping now. Her little hands and feet twitched slightly in her sleep, as though trying to grab at something that wasn't there.

"Are you going to take her home?" asked Maria as she helped lift containers full of data-gathering supplies back into the trucks and helicopters so they could clear out before the rubberneckers gathered in force.

"Yes," said Phil, running a hand across the faint bit of fuzz on the baby's head before looking up, "Thank you, Maria."

"Don't thank me. This is your deal."

Phil chuckled, "Yeah, yeah I guess it is."

"What is her name?"

"Evelyn," smiled Phil, "Evelyn Jane Coulson."


	2. Pt 1 Ch 2: Baby Girl

Phil struggled to flip the light switch on with his elbow as he walked into his apartment, arms full with two large grocery bags and a baby in the sling he had hastily purchased and assembled. The center island in the kitchen was almost totally filled by the bags and bags of baby supplies he had stocked up on over the past few hours. The teeny baby cooed as he managed to wiggle her out of the sling. Evelyn, he reminded himself, her name was Evelyn and he was going to call her by her name from now on.

"Hi Evelyn," he smiled as he lay her on the blanket in the adjacent living room, "Stay here, okay? I've got to put stuff away. Don't… don't run off."

She giggled, as though realizing the silliness of the statement just as much as he did. He walked back to the kitchen, but he could see Evelyn staring up at the ceiling from where he stood. As he unpacked the bags and put everything on their proper shelves, his eyes were always partly on Evelyn. Luckily, nothing happened. She rolled back and forth on the blanket, lifting her legs at one point to study her tiny baby toes. She reached up to touch them and then giggled when she almost reached them. Phil found himself smiling as he put away little glass jars of baby food, instant formulas, and the stack of baby care books he picked up.

Something nagged at the back of his mind. He had to be forgetting something for her. Mentally, he went through his checklist. The car seat was in his 1983 sedan, her high chair was at the table, there were piles of blankets, towels, and clothing all ready for her and the diapers and wipes were already in the bathroom. It seemed like he had everything he needed to begin raising a daughter. Phil quickly changed into his pajamas and picked Evelyn up in his arms.

"Okay, little one. Time for bedtime…oh…," he paused for a moment as realization dawned on him, "Aw, crap… bed! I forgot to get a bed!"

He looked back over his shoulder at the glowing light on the stove. It was 11:35 at night. Chances were good that none of the baby stores were open at this hour. Evelyn babbled gently in his arms, staring sleepily around the room.

Working quickly, Phil walked into the bedroom, looking for something that could serve as a makeshift baby bed. His eyes drifted to a large, flat storage container he used to hold his college text books… the ones he had been meaning to drop by the book resale for several years now. It would have to do for tonight. He cleared the books out and stuffed it full of blankets, making a small nest for Evelyn to fit in. She sank into the blankets, still cooing softly. Her soft baby talk was interrupted by a small yawn. Apparently she was happy with her sleeping conditions.

Phil dragged the plush armchair from the living room and set Evelyn's box on top so he could keep an eye on her from the bed. At long last, Phil sat down on his bed, looking over at the dozing Evelyn. His back muscles relaxed as he slid into bed and picked up the first of many books about baby care he had to get through.

His eyes kept twitching from his book over to the sleeping Evelyn. Her breathing was slow and even, interspersed with a few small coos. Occasionally her arm or leg would twitch as she settled into deep sleep.

Finally, Phil settled into bed. Tomorrow was Saturday. He would have to get up early to get her a crib before naptime.

Oh… naptime. Having a kid around would be much more interesting than he thought. Rubbing his eyes, Phil decided he would deal with that when it happened. He would do some reading and see what he could come up with. He drifted off to sleep, barely remembering to turn the lamp off.

Phil woke up to a soft cooing noise from the other side of the room. He sat bolt upright in bed, instinctively pulling the gun out from under his pillow and aiming it toward the door of the bedroom. He heard the soft noise again and realized it was Evelyn.

She was lying in the plastic tub, considering him curiously with her wide, hazel eyes. They seemed to be taking in every single thing in the room while she sucked on the edge of the blue Sherpa blanket he covered her with the night before. Phil looked at the infant's frizzy auburn hair sticking up at odd angles and chuckled.

Smiling, Phil climbed out of bed and started to make his way to the bathroom. He really had to pee. He barely got to the door before he caught a whiff of something truly foul smelling. Evelyn turned and looked over at him, smiling as she continued to chew the blanket.

"Diaper," muttered Phil, "Oh… shoot!"

He picked her up, making a face as the smell grew more potent and doing everything in his power to avoid touching the squishy cotton pouch. He started to head to the bathroom at first but then changed directions to the kitchen. The bathroom counter wasn't nearly big enough to change her on unless he wanted to put her halfway in the sink. So, in addition to buying a bed, he would also have to get a changing table.

Phil put down a towel, wipes, and the bag of diapers. Evelyn wiggled on the towel, looking up at him as if to say 'well, are you going to do something about this?'

"I'm getting on it," he replied to nobody, "I've just never done this before. I've never changed a diaper, much less my daughter's diaper. Okay… I can do this."

He had the wipes in hand as he undid the tabs on the diaper. A horrible smell wafted up to his nose. Phil took a step back and held a hand to his nose. He had attended some crime scenes… some with decomposing bodies, or charred corpses, or chemical spills that melted flesh from bone. He even had to help clean up a few alien corpses. None of those situations smelled anywhere as near as foul as this diaper.

"Oh God," he tried to catch a breath, however fleeting, of fresh air but it just wasn't anywhere to be found.

Phil gasped for air as he removed and threw away the diaper, wiping her clean. It was such a relief to put the new diaper on. He moved her legs around, checking the fit of the diaper. She squealed and giggled as he touched her tiny feet. Blinking, he tried doing it again and she let out a little shriek of joy.

"You're ticklish, aren't you?" he smiled as she babbled up at him, "That's cute!"

He scooped her up quickly and spun her around the room. She screamed with joy, laughing and giggling as he set her down on the couch. Her little legs kicked and tiny fists punched at the air. Her little mop of frizzy auburn hair was still sticking out at odd angles. Phil found himself laughing at her morning hair.

He then realized that he still had to use the bathroom and it was far more urgent now than it was before. He made sure Evelyn was safely nestled among the couch cushions before racing down the hall to the bathroom. Upon returning, it occurred to him that he would need to get a few further supplies for Evelyn. After breakfast, she was back in her sling and they were in the local mall.

Had Phil known years ago that women flocked to him when he had a baby slung around his shoulders, he would have volunteered to babysit his little cousins and take them out for ice cream a lot more often. It seemed everywhere he went, someone was cooing over the little girl. And it may have been his imagination, but she seemed to enjoy the attention as they hurried to the baby store.

"Don't get too full of yourself," he muttered to her when they had a moment alone, "Eventually you won't be tiny and people won't coo over you."

He paused in that line of thought as he looked over the different models of cribs. There were big cribs that looked like they could accommodate triplets, small bassinets with frills, ones with movie characters painted on them, and just about every size, color, or model that you could think of. He looked down at the little girl.

"I'm sure you will be beautiful when you grow up," he corrected himself, "But… you won't be a baby forever. So… why am I going to spend three hundred dollars on something that I will only use for a year? Christ, they have a racket going on in the baby supply market."

He finally picked out the least expensive crib that still had a passable safety rating. It was simple, white, and looked easy enough to put together. There was also a changing table that was about the same color. The final price tag made him feel a bit sick to his stomach. So be it, if it meant his new daughter had a safe place to sleep. Still, the cost made him wince somewhat as it flashed up on the cash register.

"You know," said the cashier, pulling him from his thoughts in the checkout line,"Since you spent over fifty dollars with us today, you get a coupon for ten percent off your next purchase."

"Well, I guess I am coming to you guys for diapers next week… and probably the week after," he muttered, digging through his wallet for change.

"You can also sign up for our in-store credit card," she said, eagerly pitching a sale, "It grants you cash back after you make two hundred dollars in purchases."

Phil blinked and then shook his head. Cash back was tempting but credit cards always seemed to trip you up with interest. Not something he wanted to deal with on top of a kid and work. It made him tired, and grateful to be out of the New Mexico heat and dry. That being said, he still had much to do starting with assembling the new purchases.

It took most of the morning, but at long last, Phil stepped back to admire his handiwork and wipe the sweat off his brow. The crib and the changing table were assembled, despite having to run to the hardware store twice to get more screws and a new drill bit. Meanwhile, Evelyn had spent most of the morning crawling around on his bed and examining just about every single one of the educational toys Phil had bought for her. She seemed especially taken with the teething rings.

Phil turned to see exactly where Evelyn got off to. As it turned out she had coiled up on his jacket and was sleeping soundly right in the middle of his bed. Phil looked at his watch to see how much of the day had been wasted with those projects. Surprisingly, it was only a bit after noon, probably about naptime for Evelyn. She could sleep on the bed while he went and took care of some of the stuff around the house. In the kitchen, he scooped up the little empty glass bottles of baby food and put them in the recycle bin.

"That girl eats more than a horse," he muttered, wiping the counter down, "God knows how long she was out there though… probably malnourished."

Grabbing one of a handful of parenting books, Phil climbed onto the bed, careful not to wake Evelyn. He poked at the diaper, relieved to find it dry. Her little fists held his jacket tightly. Tiny toes curled and uncurled as she slept. At one point she stirred and yawned, but then dozed back off to sleep.

Phil kept reading his book, slightly intimidated by all the information being thrown at him. Evelyn would be sitting up by herself fairly soon. Not much longer, she would be crawling. Then she would walk. Little baby Evelyn wouldn't be a baby forever. His hand lazily ran through her fuzzy baby hair, soft as fluff from a cottonwood tree. They lay, Phil cuddled protectively around his new baby daughter, until Evelyn was done with her nap.

It was darn close to a perfect Saturday.


	3. Pt 1 Ch 3: Confluence

The weekend was woefully short. He had to go to work on Monday and Phil realized he would have to report back to the Triskelion for reports and mind-numbing meetings. Evelyn laid on the bed, babbling a little song to herself as he fretted picking out clothing for her. There were little dresses and shoes in every color of the rainbow. He had panicked in the clothing section of Walmart and bought whatever looked like it would fit without really planning anything. Eventually he settled on a little blue dress that looked like it was made for a doll and small, pink slippers and slipped a thick pink head band on her head in attempt to tame her fluffy tufts of hair.

He knew it wasn't proper for him to bring the infant into work but until he could work out a babysitter or a nanny or somebody to watch after her during the day, it was what needed to be done. He had been unlucky in finding anyone advertizing in the local paper.

"Come on," he picked her up, smiling as she laughed a little, "We gotta go to work, Evelyn."

She cooed and reached out for his silky black tie. He had taken to wearing a suit to work a long time ago. There was something just inherently cool about wearing a suit with the dark sunglasses. It was the look of super spies. It was James Bond suave with a touch of unabashed awesomeness. That is to say it was suave and badass until a baby started chewing on the end of the tie, leaving a long sticky line of drool behind.

"No!" Phil wrestled his tie back, "No, Evelyn. We don't chew. Besides I fed you earlier."

She giggled and continued to reach for things to chew on as he rushed through breakfast and raced out the door. He was already late.

The Triskelion was an imposing figure located right on the intersection of the Anacostia and Potomac River within spitting distance of the Navy Yard in Washington DC. To the public face, it was just another government building in a city almost entirely made up of government buildings full of government people in a city whose population was largely government people. The blueprints said it was a regular 50-some-odd-story building with mostly offices, a private air strip, and rooftop helicopter landing pad. Then again, if you asked people what SHIELD was, they would probably say it had something to do with an international police force or else national security something or another. Which wasn't wrong, technically.

What the blueprints (from way back in 1968) didn't show was the additional five stories built downward under the ground and spreading out under the river and the subterranean levels of Washington DC for something like a total of seven miles (if Phil recalled correctly). Part doomsday bunker, part training ground, and part top-secret laboratories populated with investigation offices, the Triskelion was actually the beating heart of not just world security but, as of late, intergalactic security for SHIELD.

The front entrance had recently been remodeled. When Phil first walked in all those years ago as a cadet, the whole place reminded him very much of his high school principal's office. There was dark, heavy wood paneling everywhere with steel fixtures that stood stark in the harsh industrial lighting. It was so dated and stuffy, one could practically smell the mothballs. The new entrance replaced the wood paneling with glass, opening it up to the sky and the trees. With daylight streaming in, the whole place seemed to sparkle with new life. He had never really paid attention to the floor until now. They kept the old floor but re-finished it. The rich, forest green marble looked like a work of art in and of itself with veins of sparkling white marble and threads of shiny gold rock. Steel was replaced with a shiny chrome, so polished you could almost see your own reflection it it. The giant SHIELD insignia statue in the center of the floor was backlit by the rising sun, making it seem like the eagle was soaring into the clouds.

As Phil walked in today, he still found himself marvelling at everything. Sure, the glossiness of the new fixture was somewhat diminished. All new things eventually become old. But he couldn't help but feel uplifted seeing the sun one last time before he disappeared into the shadowy offices at Level 5. He couldn't take too much time to bask in the sun because he was running late. His indecisiveness on how to dress Evelyn for her first day out had cost him a good twenty minutes of his morning routine, which in turn meant that he got stuck in the heat of DC rush hour. Now he had to go directly to the meeting, Evelyn in tow.

Of course babies being babies, she cried most of the way through the meeting. She needed her bottle one minute and then the next minute she needed a diaper change. A debrief meeting that was only supposed to take an hour ended up being nearly three because Phil had to run around and gather the information independently while taking care of a wriggling infant. Most of the staff didn't complain that he had a baby in tow. However, when her screams reached the higher octaves people began finding subtle ways of plugging their ears or making excuses to leave the room.

By the time he collapsed into his chair at lunch, he was exhausted. His brain felt fuzzy and empty and his arms hurt from holding Evelyn all day long. He pondered how much of a blow to his dignity it would be to use the baby harness and just let Evelyn dangle off his back all day. While deep in his mire, he missed Maria and Agent Parker sliding in around him with their styrofoam takeaway containers.

"How is your first weekend of being a father?" asked Maria dropping an extra container of food on his desk, startling him out of his rest.

"Uh," Phil shook his head to dispel the Monday cobwebs. Evelyn looked up irritably at him as she had become quite content in the silence, chewing on his tie, "Fine. I guess. It's an adjustment."

Parker snorted and then dug into the cafeteria macaroni and cheese. Phil shrugged and adjusted Evelyn in his arms before continuing.

"I like it," he elaborated, "But things are just different."

No sooner did the words escape his mouth that he caught a glimpse of a strange expression passed over Maria's face. It was only for a second, so Phil disregarded it. Evelyn fussed but settled as Phil adjusted her in his arms. She reached up to try to grab the end of his tie and stick it In her mouth.

"She sounds fussy," commented Parker between bites of macaroni.

"Maybe," conceded Phil, "she could just be adjusting to a new place. Or teething."

Parker frowned, "Isn't she a bit young to be teething?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I know she chews on everything." muttered Phil as he wiggled his tie out of her grasp and flung it back over his shoulder. Baby drool splattered along the ground. Evelyn let out a little grunt of frustration and then proceeded to pout and fuss all while Phil dug around in her diaper bag for her binkie. "I don't think... I don't know. My books say that she starts teething at six to eight months. I think she is a bit younger than that, but I actually don't know."

Evelyn babbled something incoherent and reached back toward his tie. Her little fingers fell just short. Phil finally located her binkie and after a short struggle, managed to get Evelyn to reluctantly suck on it. She shot a betrayed look up at Phil.

It was absolutely perplexing to Maria that even though Evelyn was just an infant, she seemed to be able to communicate nearly perfectly without words. Her fussing, babbling, and even crying all seemed to portray what she wanted or needed. While Maria never took much stock in maternal instinct (having seen far too many mothers drop their babies and run for their lives during a crisis), but she began to wonder if that was the reason for her ease around the infant.

"You'll never believe this," said Phil, resting Evelyn against his shoulder so he could rub her back, "But yesterday morning, I set her on the kitchen table in her little car seat carrier. I turned my back for two seconds to put the milk in the fridge and she was digging around in a box of doughnuts."

Maria raised an eyebrow curiously, "Really?"

"Swear to God," he said, raising one hand while supporting Evelyn with the other, "I turn around and she has powdered sugar all over her face. She's just kind of teething it, not really eating it. But I was so bemused that she could reach into the little box and pull it out."

Unbeknownst to Phil, as he relayed the story, Evelyn had managed to spit her binkie out and grab the end of his tie. Contentedly, she chewed on the silky black material and left a long, slimy trail of drool down the back of his nice black suit jacket.

"Did anyone get a chance to drop by the Olympics while we were out California way?" asked Agent Parker.

Maria looked up from her coffee, "Nobody could have gotten over to California in time."

"Still," Parker sighed, "I would have given my left arm to be a part of the security detail. It would have been great to see that Carl Lewis run."

"Oh yeah," said Phil, looking up from Evelyn and her bottle, "You ran track in college, didn't you?"

Parker nodded, "For two years."

"Why'd you quit?" asked Phil

"Uh," Parker looked uneasy, "Not by choice. Doc was concerned about my gait. Thought my tread wasn't balanced and I would end up hurting myself something fierce."

"So, you end up taking on one of the most physically demanding jobs on the planet?" noted Maria.

"I guess it's hard for me to say no to a challenge."

Phil found himself nodding unintentionally. He straightened up quickly and pretended he had been just playing with Evelyn.

"Agent Coulson, your tie!"

Agent Morse had somehow snuck up behind him on her silent ballerina feet and began to reach out to wipe something slimy off his jacket. He stopped her hand halfway over and pushed it back, "Don't. Seriously, don't."

She blinked, "Excuse me?"

"Don't touch unless you want baby cooties," he warned while adjusting the baby girl in his arms.

Agent Morse drew her hand back, "Cooties?"

Maria rolled her eyes and took Evelyn from Phil so he could clean up, "He means drool."

"Ah, thank you," said Phil as he pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed the drool off his tie, "I swear she puts her mouth on everything."

"Oh," Morse chuckled, "Well, I was looking for you. Legal wanted me to give you this file."

She handed over a manila folder. Phil curiously opened it up. Documents spilled out in a torrent. "What's this?"

"Evelyn's legal documents," she explained, "Birth certificate, Social Security card, and the paperwork you need to start the adoption process."

"Closed adoption. I suppose it's the only way," muttered Phil as he rocked Evelyn with one arm and sifted through papers with the other, "I know she is going to ask someday. She'll have questions."

Parker and Maria looked at each other and then dug into their lunches. Phil's question was obvious to the both of them but there was no good answer. Conversation floundered after that. Maria lingered, considering her coffee mug for a few minutes. Phil handed off baby Evelyn for her to rock while he read the papers and attempted to eat his pasta. She babbled a little sing-song tune, amusing herself by playing with the ends of Maria's hair. She was gentle, never daring to pull even though it was obvious there was a good deal of strength in little hands. Morse and Parker talked for a little while before leaving. The words rested on her tongue but she dared not to speak them until they were alone. Phil looked tired already and it wasn't going to get any easier for him.

She took a deep breath, "Have you considered…?"

"Quitting?"

It took her a moment to recover from Phil's interjection but continued, "That's not what I was going to say, but have you considered it?"

"Yeah," he admitted in between mouthfuls, "I mean… she's a lot of work. An awful lot of work. I understand why there are so many stay at home moms now."

"So, are you quitting?" whispered Maria across the table, trying not to alarm the fellow agents around them.

Phil shrugged one shoulder, "I don't know. Maybe. I'd rather just take a leave for a bit until I sort of… get things figured out. I don't know how I would do it. I don't have nearly enough vacation time for this sort of thing and… if I leave, will I be able to come back?"

It was Maria's turn to shrug as Evelyn fussed a bit, eager to get back into her father's arms. Maria handed her over and Phil nestled her in the crook of his arm. She pondered it for a moment over another sip of coffee.

"What about a transfer to another post? Is there anything opening soon that might allow you to spend more time with her?"

"I haven't heard of anything but I guess that is something to keep an ear open for," he sighed, "I knew I was going to have to ask Fury about options regarding Evelyn. Daycare or something."

"Hand told me Fury is heading out of town," she dropped, "Libyan elections."

"Oh," Phil anxiously, "When he's leaving?"

Maria gave him a look. Fury never went in depth about his travel plans. If he spoke of them at all, they were so vague that they didn't actually mean anything. It was for his safety and also to keep the public somewhat blind to SHIELD's activities. There was also a healthy dose of Fury's own paranoia in there.

"I think you are best off trying to meet with him before he leaves."

Phil was gone barely after she finished the sentence, his lunch uneaten. He hurried upstairs to the director's office, a spacious area near the top floor. You could look out through the giant, glass windows and see the National Mall and White House on a good day. Fury alway said he wanted that office in particular so if anything went wrong, he would be the first to see it.

A secretary waved Phil in but not before saying, "Director Fury will need to leave as soon as he is done with his phone call."

Phil nodded. There were some benefits from knowing Nick from back when they were both enlisted Army boys. Anyone else would be stopped at the door and likely told Nick had already left.

"I know what he said and I have no idea why anyone is taking it seriously because that is just stupid," snapped Fury, "We're not bombing Russia. Nobody is bombing Russia. If you stopped being such a tight-ass and actually listened to what he said you would know that. It was intended to be funny. You do know how to be funny, don't you Admiral?"

Someone said something unintelligible on the other end of the line, eliciting an eye-roll from Fury cold enough to cause snow in the Sahara. He eventually glanced down at his watch, lacking the patience to continue.

"You worry about your job and I'm going to worry about mine. It's all a big, fat coincidence and we have no intel gathered on the matter. Not a peep. Now, if you don't mind, I needed to be in Libya five minutes ago."

Nick hung up the phone quickly before the Admiral could respond. Phil shifted his feet nervously as he tried to piece together what he wanted to ask. Fury didn't give him time to dally.

"Speak quickly, Coulson, my plane is waiting."

"Director," he stated, standing nervously in Fury's office with his tie dripping with baby slobber. She was starting to fuss and the vague smell of used diaper was beginning to reach Phil's nose, "This sounds ridiculous to ask but, how do I apply for some kind of… maternity leave?"

Fury looked up and blinked once, slowly, and then closed his eye like a man who had already dealt with too much crazy in one day, "I would probably laugh, Coulson, if I didn't know you were being dead serious."

"Yeah,' Phil found himself shifting sheepishly from foot to foot while Evelyn babbled something and then put her fingers in her mouth, "I need help, Nick."

"Regretting your decision?" frowned Fury, crossing his arms.

"Not regretting," clarified Phil, "Just… floundering, sir. I can't quit but I can't handle balancing her needs and what needs done here."

Nick nodded for a long moment as the sun started to head downward over the Potomac River. He looked up at Phil finally, "Take the week off to get yourself situated with the girl. File adoption papers and stuff. Make it official. We will talk when I get back regarding what to do from there. We'll figure something out for you."

"Thank you," whispered Phil, "Nick, Thank you so much."

"I gotta go," said Nick, as he gathered up papers, "I'll call when I get back."

"Alright, Nick," said Phil, "Thanks again."

He couldn't run to the bathroom fast enough after his meeting with Nick to change Evelyn's diaper. Later on, he hurried out to his Ford escort hatchback and tucked Evelyn into her little car seat, fastening it in place. She giggled at him and showed him her feet, having kicked off her shoes hours ago. Phil tickled her toes so she squealed with joy before he shut the door and went around to the front of the car.

He was tired. The last time he was this tired was after his first day of boot camp all those years ago. Was parenting always this exhausting? If that was true, he could understand why his mother always looked exhausted, especially after his father died. He sighed and started the car. It was seventeen years ago when his father died. That was too strange to consider but he found himself lingering on it throughout the long commute back to his home in Arlington.

"What would Dad do?" muttered Phil, looking back at Evelyn through the car mirror. He pondered it all the way home, until he stood in the front door of his little apartment.

He sat up dinner for himself by tossing leftover meatloaf into the microwave and pulling out a jar of applesauce for Evelyn. The little girl contently sucked her thumb in the middle of the living room floor while Phil scooped applesauce into a dish. Hopefully there would only be a short time longer of the baby food diet. But she needed teeth before she could move on.

"Okay," he smiled, sitting on the ground in front of the television with Evelyn on his lap, "Dinnertime. Let's watch the news. See what's going on in the world today."

She babbled contentedly as Phil spooned applesauce into her mouth. In between bites, she was very talkative, so talkative that Phil was continually distracted from the television.

"I don't know what you are saying," he chuckled, "But you seem excited about it."

"Yea," she seemed to say among her babbles. Phil did a double-take. There was no way that she actually spoke. He had to have just interpreted her babbles as a word he recognized. It seemed weird, but more plausible.

The news was full of trouble. There were problems seemingly all over the world. Phil held Evelyn closer as he settled on the couch. Suddenly the news seemed so much bigger than it was. The future seemed more important. His hand traced through the fluff atop her head while she babbled and chewed the edge of her blanket. Phil sighed and pushed the blanket out of the way. It desperately needed to be cleaned as the fluffy fabric had become matted and sticky.

"Evelyn, don't chew," he said, more sternly than he intended. The girl whimpered and started to cry again once the blanket was out of her grasp. Phil turned her around so he could look at her properly and try burping her. As he patted the little girl on the back, the screams didn't stop. His ears rang, pain shooting up and rattling around in his brain like loose change.

He surveyed the screaming girl for a moment, trying to find anything that might indicate while she was crying. He just changed her diaper, she was eating applesauce happily moments before, all he did was take the blanket away.

The little gums inside her mouth were red and inflamed. Phil looked a bit closer, avoiding her tiny fists as they punched the air. The finest line of little pearly white baby teeth were just starting to push through the gum line. He held her close to his chest and reluctantly handed the blanket back to her.

No sooner was she wrapped back into the folds of the fluffy, well-loved sherpa blanket then she quieted down and began to chew only the edge once again. Phil sighed, "I guess you do what works…"


	4. Pt 1 Ch 4: Badass

The Hawthorn Diner was just across the river from the Triskelion. Since the earliest days of SHIELD, it had been a frequent haunt of agents in need of a nice burger with fries and a thick chocolate shake. There were many midnight missions which ended with people sitting around with thick burgers, greasy fries, and a cup of black coffee strong enough to stun a cat. Everyone sat under the florescent lights and the flashing neon trying to think of something to talk about but unable to come up with anything because they were too tired and it took too much effort. Phil remembered many of those days back when he and Nick were new to SHIELD.

Even though it was creeping past a decade when he and Nick first walked through the doors of the diner after their first mission, some things never changed. Nick always got the same burger every time they went there, regardless of the time of day. Phil was thinking now would be the perfect time for a cup of coffee, as the early morning sun streamed through the windows.

Nick sat in mostly stony silence except to order his food. It took a long moment before he finally spoke up, "So."

Phil blinked, "So…?"

"You need a change of pace. I need you in the field," explained Nick, "I'm going to lay it all on the table for you, since you are a friend. You are an excellent field commander. You have a singularly unique ability and that is the ability to make people listen to whatever it is you have to say. And you don't do it because you yell the loudest or you are the biggest hardass of the bunch, you do it because you know how people think and you know how to speak to them in a way they understand. You create a positive environment for them. Do you have any idea how rare that is?"

Phil nodded, realizing they were getting right to business right away, "Yes, sir."

"If I could bottle that leadership and force-feed it to the other field crews, I would. It's a gift. A gift that doesn't come around very often."

"Sir…"

"Don't call me "sir" when we are sitting in a diner, having breakfast," snapped Nick, "This isn't official. If it was official, I would be speaking to you in my office, not here."

"Nick," Phil corrected himself, "I'm not saying I want to go away forever. I'm not saying I want a desk job. I'm not saying I don't want to be involved. I'm just saying the time commitment is the only thing that has to change. It will only be for a couple of years, until Evelyn starts pre-school and I can safely leave her alone, supervised, during the day. So, yeah, long term missions are out now but I haven't been on an long term team for some time anyway."

Nick considered him carefully through his one good eye for a long moment. The waitress came and refilled their coffees and left. Nick let out a long sigh and dug through his briefcase, looking for something in particular.

"I told you before," he said as he dug around, "We don't really have a program for this sort of thing. But, you are a lucky son of a gun and we have a window of opportunity which could work if you are willing to do it."

He pulled out a manila envelope stamped with the SHIELD insignia on the front. There was something written in an unintelligible scrawl across the front. Fury slid it across the table, narrowly evading the coffee mug.

"You probably know by now that Remora Long is retiring from recruitment and internships," he explained, "Legally, I have to make a public offering because of equal opportunity stuff. However, I was hoping to hire internally. I need a veteran who really understands what SHIELD is and what we are looking for. Someone who doesn't really know the organization, someone who hasn't been here and experienced the whole process can't represent us fairly. That's why I feel comfortable offering this to you."

Phil slid open the envelope and started to read the cover description. It was pretty standard fare. The job entailed establishing internships for non-security departments and organizing and promoting recruitment of new agents. Once the agents were recruited, he would have to organize background checks and assign them to a superior officer. It looked like an awful lot of work but it was more flexible hours and he could work from home as needed.

"It's a shame to lose Remora," noted Nick wistfully, "She was good. And she's been running the thing like a clockwork machine since God knows when."

"What happened to make her leave?"

"Her health. Her lung cancer is back. She decided she wanted to spend some time with family while she underwent treatment," he sighed solemnly, "We're hoping for the best."

Phil nodded and continued to skim through the paperwork. The application was already in there and practically all filled out, just waiting for his signature. The decision was almost a no-brainer, he could hardly sign fast enough.

"Why me, Nick? Why this job?"

"Because of the way you acted around that little girl," admitted Nick, "Don't think I had forgotten just because I was gone. It's a long-ass flight between here and Libya."

"I'm… not sure I follow."

"Look, it's like I was saying about leadership. I want my field commanders to have it, I want my training officers to have it, but most important is the person who points them at the door. They have to be a leader. Because they set the tone for the rest of the experience. And that's true if you are a high school, a major corporation or," he pointed around the place, "A diner. Look, if the waitress waited ten minutes before giving you a menu, what would you say about the service around here?"

"I'd say the service was pretty lousy."

"And even if the food was the best on earth, would you come back?"

"Not likely."

"And, there's your answer _._ You were right there for that little girl when nobody else was paying attention. And I know you, Phil, you've been like that forever and to all sorts of people. But you ever pull that defiant shit again while we are on the clock and I will drop you into a bottomless pit of red tape, understood?"

Phil nodded rapidly, his blood pressure already rising at the thought of all the paperwork. Time behind a desk, even hypothetical time behind a desk sent his stress levels into overdrive.

"The point is," continued Nick, "If you are going to move around, I'd rather you move there than anywhere else. It's the best place for you."

"And this is my only real option?"

"It's either this or sit and wait for something better," said Nick, "And I can't think of anything better."

Phil took a deep breath. This was really a no brainer but he felt tense for being backed into making a quick decision, "I guess I'm in."

"Good," said Nick as the waitress drew near with the hot food, "Then we're done here. I'll have you fill out paperwork when we get back. Two weeks notice and all that."

"Fine," shrugged Phil, he felt a bit wistful and tired. The anticipation of this meeting was far greater than the actual payoff.

"Do you want some more coffee?" asked the waitress, a pretty redhead with bushy bangs, bright makeup, and dozens of bangle bracelets.

"Yes, please," said Phil.

She was gone with a tinkle of bracelets and a skip to her step. Nick looked back over his shoulder as she disappeared into the kitchen. He turned back to Phil with raised eyebrows. "She's cute."

"Not my type," shrugged Phil.

"Yeah," chuckled Nick, "You're a bit more Marilyn than Madonna."

Phil opened his mouth to say something but declined when he saw the girl walking back around with a pot of coffee. She refilled the cups and then retreated back to other parts of the restaurant. Nick looked up from his sandwich for a moment.

"When was the last time you've been on a date?" he asked.

"Been awhile," admitted Phil, "Probably won't go on many now that I have a new girl in my life."

"What about the one chick in Peru… Columbia... wherever?"

"I really haven't kept in touch," admitted Phil sheepishly, "But then we had to leave kind of abruptly."

"Civil unrest does that," noted Nick.

Something caught the corner of Phil's eye. Two men, dressed all in black with a woolen cap pulled tightly down over their foreheads. Wraparound shades blocked out their eyes. With a deep sigh, it became painfully obvious to Phil what was going on.

"It's broad daylight," commented Phil, "What exactly do you think two guys dressed all in black with ski caps are doing at this time of day in this kind of weather?"

Nick turned so he could see what was going on. He sighed, setting his burger down in dismay, "I think we have a rumble on our hands."

It turned out to be exactly what they thought it would be. The two men entered and started spreading out. The waitress walked out into the front entrance and then shrieked. The three or four other people in the restaurant turned to see what was going on.

"Alright," yelled the first man, waving something around in the air, "Nobody move, we are holding up this place until that cash register is emptied."

Nick didn't appear phased at all, "Man, what is it about us that makes us a magnet for this sort of thing? Wherever we go, things go sideways."

Phil nodded placidly as he sipped his coffee. It was almost painfully hot, a fresh cup. There were perks to getting to the diner first thing in the morning. Nick continued as the waitress backed up and frantically began tapping on the cash register, trying to get it to open. One of the robbers was on the move.

"You have people who think they can just pick a fight wherever they go and nobody will lift a finger against them," continued Nick, louder now, "It's ridiculous. And it's the sort of thing we have to deal with every day on a grand scale. All I want to do is sit and eat my burger and this sort of shit happens to get in the way."

"Hand over your wallet, mate," ordered one of the crooks, pointing something toward them.

Nick sighed deeply as he feigned for his wallet and turned to face Phil, "This is exactly the sort of _bull_ shit I am talking about."

Phil locked eyes with Nick for a long moment, understanding. Slowly, he reached out and tapped his coffee mug so it fell off the counter, landing right on the leg of the nearby crook. He yelped as the hot liquid hit him square in the thigh. Nick quickly stood and reached around and grabbed the man by the arm, pulling him into a suffocating headlock. He dropped whatever it was he was holding. Phil turned and drew his gun, pointing at at the other man as he stood, dumbstruck in front of the cash register. Phil smacked his chest with his free hand to activate the SHIELD emergency beacon.

"Robbing a diner in Washington DC in broad daylight," scoffed Nick, turning to face the other man, "I didn't think anyone would seriously be that dumb. Don't you know that there are cops and bodyguards everywhere?"

"Aw, shit, man," said the man as he turned toward the door, intending to sprint out and leave his buddy to the wolves.

"You really don't want to do that," said Phil, "Cops are already on the way. You would have, at most, thirty seconds to figure out what to do and I don't think you are really all that smart."

"Aw, shit," the man swore again, "We don't even have real guns!"

"I know it isn't a real gun," snapped Nick, "what kind of moron do you think I am? Put it down and sit down and I won't have to send my friend here after you. His gun is very real."

The SHIELD security beacon did it's job impeccably well as a swarm of cop cars was storming the building mere minutes after hitting the button.

"Check, please," said Phil, holding up the tab for the waitress.

"This one's on me," said Nick over his shoulder, "Once I can let go of this punk."

The wide-eyed waitress retreated back into the kitchen as a police unit burst through the front doors, guns drawn. Phil lowered his weapon, setting it on the table, and then raised his hands in the air. Nick followed suit, dropping the air-starved crook to the floor and trying not to chuckle as he frantically crawled toward the cops, gasping for air.

It took several minutes worth of swapping badges and calling around to make sure everyone was legit and credentials checked out. Nick was still holding back a laughter as the two would-be thieves contemplated their awful luck from the back seat of a police car.

Nick was focused on the criminals but Phil found his eye drifting over to the waitress. She stood by the door holding her elbows and looking out over the scene. She trembled and it wasn't because the wind off the river was unusually chilly.

Phil walked up to her, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she sniffled, "Just shaken. I've never had anything like that happen before."

"Don't worry, this stuff doesn't happen too often," comforted Phil, "You'll be alright."

"Thank you," smiled the girl, her abundant makeup smeared from crying, "If there is anything I can do..."

Nick raised an eyebrow and looked over at Phil. Then turned back. Phil just smiled, "Don't worry about it. It's my job."

She smiled for a moment and then hugged him. Phil looked a bit dumbstruck for a moment and then returned the hug. The girl was still crying terribly and her makeup smeared all over the front of his suit. Normally, such an event would cause a state of panic but since he started having to wash baby drool out of his ties, a little mascara seemed like no big deal.

Eventually they were all cleared to go and the girl retreated back into the diner to do her job and pour coffee for the dozens of other people who would inevitably show up. He was sure he would be back sometime and he would have to check and see how she was doing. He and Nick walked back to the car.

"Phil," Nick shook his head as they drew near the big Ford pickup Nick liked to drive in. It was big and cleared traffic so he never had to wait. Fury didn't like to wait if he could do anything at all to help it. "You missed your big chance."

"I said she wasn't my type."

Phil shut the car door and pulled the seat belt tight across his chest. Fury started the car and it roared to life with a powerful, souped up engine. There were some enviable perks to being senior rank and one of them was having any car you wanted and tricked out with more toys than James Bond's Aston Martin.

"That didn't use to matter all that much."

"You get a kid, it changes your perspective on things."

"Nah," said Fury as he shifted the car into gear, "You've been like that for a while."

Phil sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day, "You're right. I _have_ been thinking about it for a while."

"Coulson?"

"I realized the other day that I'm going to be thirty next year. Scared the crap out of me to come to that realization. So, I've been thinking about, " he paused, "The future. My future. Like what I want out of life. And..."

"Let me guess, the cactus baby is part of the plan?"

"She is now. One way or another she was going to be someone's responsibility. May as well be mine because… this is what I want," he shrugged, "I've been wanting a family. By the time he was my age, my dad had been married to my mom for seven years. It feels like if I don't do something now, it will never happen."

"Sounds like you made up your mind. So it's official?"

"It will be," smiled Phil, "Everything should be stamped, sealed, and notarized by noon. Then it is just waiting for approval."

"In that case, there is not much I can do to convince you otherwise. Let me tell you though, I am seriously going to miss shit like that," chuckled Nick as they wove through traffic, "Fighting the bad guys one-on-one on the street like that. Takes me back to the early days."

"Cairo?"

"Yeah," Nick smirked, "Like Cairo. I was just thinking about that mission when I was back in Tripoli. That was a good time."

"I wouldn't call it a good time," said Phil thoughtfully, "There were a lot of injured civilians."

"No, not a good time," admitted Nick, "But there was energy to it. I don't want to say it was fun but…"

"It was sort of fun," nodded Phil, "In the sense it was an adventure. And it's somewhat addicting to be in the field and doing good, rescuing people, fighting right on the ground where it matters."

They sat in silence for a long moment as their journey across the bridge came to a close. The Triskelion loomed nearer like a shining diamond against the blue of the sky and the river.

"Where is the cactus baby?"

"Maria is watching _Evelyn_ ," stated Phil as they pulled out, "Back at work. I thought it was the safest place for her."

"Probably is," said Nick they drove past Nationals Park and made their way toward the bridge, "So, turn in your two weeks notice. Write it out for record's sake. It will take us some time to go through the processes of interviews and things to appease the legal people as well as move someone up to fill your shoes. We'll be in touch regarding what you need to do and when you will start."

"Okay," Phil said as the truck passed over the Anacostia River and pulled into the Triskelion parking. Fury waved his pass around but everyone already knew who he was. There were only so many people walking around SHIELD with an eye patch.

"I have meetings," said Nick, "So I'll be in touch later."

"Right."

"And Phil?" He turned to look back at Nick before they parted, "I'll miss my good eye. But I'm glad this is going to work for you. I expect you to be back as my senior field officer by the time Cactus baby is in grade school."

"Me too," admitted Phil as he punched the elevator keys and traveled up to be reunited with his daughter.


	5. Pt 1 Ch 5: Baby Steps

"Come on, Evey," he encouraged, holding the camcorder in one hand and a box of Fig Newtons in the other. "Come on, walk this way!"

"Block!" The little girl babbled and banged the wooden blocks together. Little bubble noises spilled out of her plump pink baby lips. She didn't seem very interested in walking today. Building blocks were much more interesting than anything else.

"I know you are going to start walking as soon as I don't have a camera," he chuckled to himself, tucking the camcorder away in the bag. Evelyn looked up at him with big, copper eyes and shoved a block into her mouth. "Oh, don't look so innocent. I know you can be mischievous."

She slumped forward onto her stomach and giggled, crawling along on powerful legs toward the box of cookies. Phil scooped up the container before she could get to it.

"Cook-ie," Evelyn whined but Phil didn't back down.

"You get a cookie when you walk. That's how it works," explained Phil. Evelyn pouted but didn't cry. She went back to her toys, banging the blocks together.

The black phone rang. Phil felt the hair on the back of his head stand up. He blinked. It wasn't supposed to ring. That phone was on a separate line and only rang for SHIELD emergencies. Nervously, he answered.

"Agent Coulson?"

"Bobbi," he sighed in relief, hearing Agent Morse on the other end of the line, "What can I do for you."

"The Director needs you to come in. Something crossed his desk that requires your attention," she explained. The messages were always deliberately vague just in case they were intercepted. Phone line securities have been improved but were by no means perfect.

"I'll be running late," he said. Actually, he would be right on time. That was just his way of being discreet. "I'll drop by when I'm able."

"Don't be too late," she warned.

Phil hung up and felt his shoulders slump. He switched to the main home line and dialed a familiar number. The phone almost rang out when it was finally answered.

"Hello?"

"Maria," he sighed, "I was afraid you were still out."

The young lady yawned on the other side of the line, "No, no. I got back last night."

"Did I wake you?"

"Oh no. I was just getting out of the shower. What's up?"

"Uh, well, I have some...errands to run," he evaded, "I can't take Evey with me. Would you be up to babysitting?"

Maria paused for a long moment before saying anything, "Can you give me some time to change? I need to take care of one or two things."

"Sure. Take your time."

Phil rarely saw Maria in street clothes. She wore her SHIELD uniform with pride and kept it in top shape. When she showed up in a thick brown turtleneck sweater and light colored jeans, Phil had to do a double take.

"How's Evelyn?"

"Come on in," smiled Phil, offering her indoors, "She's been playing."

Evelyn dismissed the blocks in favor of a chunky wooden puzzle with farm animals. She sang a little goofy song to herself as she smashed the pieces together. When she saw Maria, her eyes glowed golden brown.

"Mar-ah! Hi!" she grinned, waving a hand up at her.

"Hi, Evelyn," she smiled, kneeling down next to the girl, "What are you up to?"

"Blocks!" she grinned, holding up a puzzle piece to Maria for her to hold. Maria took it but quickly changed hands to wipe the excess baby drool onto her pant leg.

Phil set his bug-out bag near the door while he ran over the checklist of Evelyn's things. "By the way. She has been sort of trying to pull herself up on chairs and things recently. I think she will be walking soon. If she does. I have the camcorder on the kitchen counter. Can you fire it up and catch a bit of it?"

"Sure," shrugged Maria, "You think she's ready to start running around?"

"Well, the baby books say she will start walking when she is nine to eighteen months. She's about ten months now. So, that should be about time," he bit his lip a bit, "I'm worried I'll miss it."

"I'm sorry," she said, "Do you have to go in?"

"Well, Bobbi says it is serious enough that Nick wants to talk to me. I don't know how much time this will take. So, yes, I am concerned."

His concern doubled when he found himself several hours later sitting in dense brush wondering what he was doing with his life. The warm evening devolved into dense sheets of rain. Phil took off his night vision goggles to shake off the water collecting in the nosepiece.

"Why am I here?" he bemoaned for a miserable moment. With a final dejected sigh, he shouldered his pack and jogged off into the birch forest, dodging logs and downed trees as he went. Mist lingered around the side of the hill, clinging to his waterproof jacket. His hair clung to his forehead, riddled with dry red pine needles. Chill dug its claws into his legs but he pushed on to meet the rest of the strike team.

Bobbi Morse jumped down from a tree to his left, tucking and rolling to keep pace with him. Her long blond hair flowed behind her like a flag. "Took you long enough."

Phil didn't reply, the mist cleared and revealed looming stone walls. Phil knelt in the underbrush behind a clump of ferns to better gauge the situation. Shadowy figures patrolled the top of the outside wall. Phil counted seven but supposed there could be more. A searchlight occasionally glanced along the outside perimeter, backlighting the soldiers inside. Phil could see a vague outline of a large gun. Any other buildings were not visible behind the thick protective wall.

"You know," he chuckled mirthlessly, "it looks a lot bigger in person than it did in the satellite images."

"I don't see a door," noted Bobbi, "This is definitely the front if we go by the satellite images. So…"

"When is a door not a door?" mused Phil.

"When it's ajar," Bobbi rolled her eyes, "Yes, I know that stupid joke."

"It was worth a try," mumbled Phil as he turned around and started back down the hill. It took Bobbi a moment to see he had gone but she followed.

"What do you see?"

"Did you notice that the grade of the slope increased about twenty meters back?"

"No, I was doing recon from the trees."

"Well, if you had been on ground level and not climbing through the trees like a monkey," he whispered, holding a hand up to indicate silence, "You may have noticed that this hill got much more difficult to climb. If I'm right…"

He stopped talking when a shadow moved on the far side of the hill. Phil jerked his thumb back over his shoulder, backing up and disappearing into the lean trees. A long trek around revealed a guard station and a side door, protected by a bank of earth. Barely visible against the blackness, a metal door shone in the dim light.

Phil grinned and whispered, "A door isn't a door when it's a tunnel. They hid the door by building up the earth on this side and carving a tunnel. That way you couldn't find the way in by looking at it from above. You have to stumble on it."

"How on earth did you figure that out?"

"If I'm running uphill, I want to know why," he waved her away, "Can you get closer?"

"Sure," she crouched and scuttled up a tree like a spider. Phil lost her lean form as it darted through the trees. If she made any noise, Phil couldn't hear it over the roar of the deluge.

His windbreaker did little to keep the rain from getting in. Water dripped down his sleeves and onto his fingertips. A hot prickle raced along his spine. His heart took off like a rocket as he darted behind a tree, pressing up against the papery bark. The rain pounded around him but he listened between the raindrops.

Leaves crunched just beyond the trees. He took a deep breath and looked around the side. Two big guys with big guns marched along the path, silhouetted by the searchlight. The cold metal of their firearms glinted in the cold light. Phil held his breath lest a puff of condensation alert them to his presence. Grumblings and groaning of indiscernible voices bounced between raindrops but the individual words were lost. They lumbered on into the dense brush, looping around the facility. As Phil became acquainted with his breath, he almost missed Bobbi's feather light steps in the rain.

"I see two guards at the tunnel and two groups of two circling the place. There are another ten on the upper rim but their visibility is limited from the rain. Our real concern is the ground troops. Our receiver is set up so we can go ahead and begin transmitting the video feed any time."

"Good. Let's get the body cams on," he said, tapping a button on his wrist, "we need to get in, survey the scene, and figure out exactly who and what we are dealing with."

"See why they are snapping up recruits faster than we are and sending them to questionable locations," she said, activating her own camera.

"I don't like it when smart kids go off to Afghanistan to get shot for someone else's war," muttered Phil, "I say we go after the next patrol. That will give us the widest window possible to work."

So they waited in the silent shadows. Bobbi donned her night vision shades and leapt into the tree. Phil kept low to the ground and crawled up the muddy incline through the forest floor. Cold, wet leaves, fallen ferns, and twigs camouflaged him, affixed with smears of rotting bark and mud. He dodged the blue-white spotlight as it wove through the gathering mist like a ghost. His heart punched against his ribs as the crunch of leaves circled back around. He exhaled only when the stomping became less pronounced. White puffs of moisture swirled in front of his eyes.

He pulled a spike out of an inner pocket and stabbed it into the damp earth. The vibration sensor picked up nothing but the lazy rumble of the two guards below them. Satisfied they were alone; Phil nodded across the hill to where Bobbi crouched in shadow. She pulled down a breather mask and pulled the pin from a smoke grenade. Phil mirrored the motion, pulling his own mask over his mouth and nose. The air smelled stale but he would be safe from most gas agents. The gas was intended to knock out the guards and induce temporary global amnesia. SHIELD borrowed the formula from the CIA.

A pale pink haze smelling of burnt sugar lingered around the entrance when Phil and Bobby slipped into the dim amber light. Rifling through their pockets, Phil uncovered two key cards and a data disk. Bobbi borrowed borrowed a guard's fingerprints to crack the biometric lock.

"Hurry," whispered Phil, "They'll come back around."

Already he could hear faint movements among the muck. The latch clanked and the door groaned in protest as it opened. Bobbi darted into the crack, gun drawn in precaution. Phil grabbed one of the guards by the shoulders and dragged him into the entrance. He doubled back for the other while Bobbi ventured ahead to scout the terrain. With the sleeping guards out of sight, he pressed his hands against the frigid metal door and forced it shut with a pronounced thud. Beyond the wall, stomping feet of the next patrol proceeded along. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"How long," he whispered.

Bobbi holstered her pistol, "Fifteen minutes. Maybe a bit less."

There wasn't even time to discuss what to do. They took off down the concrete hall on silent feet. The highly polished floors shone under glaring ochre incandescent lights. All the while, his eyes shot around the hall, watching for odd shadows, cameras, or anything that might get in their way. One such shadow crept around a corner. Phil grabbed Bobbi by the back of her jacket, jerking her back.

"Whu-?"

Phil wordlessly doubled back and threw open one of the doors. Greased hinges swung open without a noise. They hurried inside the dark room, sliding the door behind him closed. Phil winced at the click of the latch. He held the knob, hands seeping with sweat. Thudding footsteps beyond the door paced forward and backward. Phil held his breath. As suddenly as the footsteps arrived, they dissipated into silence.

Bobbi stood in the shadows, looking out the large windows. Silhouettes of exercise equipment, backlit by the searchlights, loomed in the darkness. Chrome glinted in the harsh blue light. Phil joined her, looking over the manicured inner lawn.

"Remind you of anything?" she asked.

"Basic training," grumbled Phil, "I'm having flashbacks of endless pushups at SHIELD training."

"Uncanny, right?" her night vision goggles whirred. "This was going to be an Army base but they had to stop construction because they ran out of money. Based off of every camp I've been in, the administration offices would be right there."

She pointed off to the far side of the compound. A harsh blue light emanated from another bank of windows. Phil considered his watch, pondering if they had the time to make it over to the opposite end.

"We have to cut through the field," he sighed, "Otherwise we will never make it all the way over there and back in time."

"You're the boss."

It didn't take long before Phil regretted his choice. Crawling on his forearms across the wet grass. The searchlights scanned the sky and scoured the ground. His heart raced the duration of the trip. As the knife edge of the light drifted in front of his face, he thought his pulse throbbing in his temples would make his head explode. Bobbi drifted in and out of sight, skipping through the curtains of rain. Dirt crept into his clothes, gathering in his armpits and along the line of his belt. The muddy, sticky feeling clung to his skin as they slipped in an open window and into the hall. His feet, wet from the grass, slid on the polished floor.

When he turned the corner, a lone guard all in black stood in the buzzing light. Phil held up a hand to signal Bobbi to stop. Taking a deep inhale, Phil crept forward. His breath let out slowly through his teeth in an indiscernible hiss. The guard appeared unaware of their presence, wandering down the hall with his back to the pair. Phil stepped up behind him and his wet shoe squeaked. The guard turned a fraction but Phil was faster. He clamped his arms around the taller man's neck and squeezed.

"Go to… sleep," muttered Phil in a low voice, "Now… please."

The man eventually slumped and Phil caught him by his shoulders so he could lower the dead weight to the ground. That being done, he beckoned to Bobbi.

"You're good at that."

Phil smiled, "I've had some practice putting people to sleep."

She shook her head at him and then pocketed her night goggles. The guard stood in front of a door. It was thick reddish brown wood and brass hinges, a contrast to the utilitarian concrete they encountered up to this point.

"This is the place. I bet it's alarmed."

"Among other things," muttered Phil, pulling a gunmetal gray box from an inner pocket of his jacket. He held the sensor against the wall and pressed the button. A few seconds later, a faint image appeared on the fluorescent green screen. "There's a static camera in the upper right corner. We need to avoid that."

"Anything else?"

"Hold on," he paused, moving the box around, "The walls are thick. The signal is not getting through well. There is something else to the left. Maybe a motion sensor?"

"I'll be careful," said Bobbi, cracking her knuckles.

The door opened a fraction and she slid in. Phil watched on screen as the lean outline shuffled along the wall. She ducked under something and then raced across the room. Something beeped inside and then Bobbi called all clear.

Inside, the motion sensor rested, inert, on the table. Phil followed her footsteps and dodged the video camera. They stood, pressed up against the far wall. A large reinforced metal door dominated the far wall, a ten-key pad embedded in the middle.

"I think there is something important here," she smiled with a sing-song voice, "Otherwise why bother with the Fort Knox setup?"

Phil shuffled around his pockets again, pulling out a pen. The narrow beam of red light traced over the keys, illuminating the greasy fingerprints. He smiled.

"We have one, five, nine… zero," he said, "How many combinations is that?"

"Too many. Hold on," she took the pen from him and scanned the numbers again, "Zero is the brightest and five is the faintest. Let's try… 0-1-9-5."

The door buzzed and the inner workings clanked and thudded. Bobbi grinned, "First try!"

Phil pulled the door open. Office lights flickered on. His heart trembled in anticipation. Even though it looked like a boring office, boring offices held many dirty little secrets. Boring offices held records, paperwork, and official documents. He readied his micro camera.

Bobbi stood guard while he shifted through paperwork, looking for anything that might be interesting. A few financial ledgers and profiles seemed of interest, picking and choosing as he went for the sake of time. His eyes passed over the heavy metal placard on the front of the desk. The embossed letters spelled out "Taskmaster."

"I know a couple of drill sergeants who deserved that name," chuckled Phil to himself as he shifted through papers. One in particular seemed to be a land deed. Another was an accounts receivable book. He filed both of these among the other documents.

Red lights flashed. Phil dropped the paper in his hands. A klaxon alarm began blasting from the inside of the camp. Bobbi poked her head in the room, a frown across her face.

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Phil raised his hands defensively, "Was it the guy I knocked out?"

"He's still out," she said. "It… could have been the two guys at the gate. The knockout could have worn off early."

"Okay," Phil pocketed the camera, "We have to run."

"Where?" she snapped.

"There has to be a fire escape or some sort of emergency exit," said Phil, "They wouldn't make the facility a death trap."

Or maybe they would. He considered the possibility when he heard the metallic clang of security doors clanging shut. In the hall, metal blinds slammed down over the external windows. The tourniquet tightened.

"What about roof access?" considered Bobbi.

"We don't have an evac," countered Phil, "Unless you are suggesting we jump."

"Do we have another option?"

Phil sighed. He didn't fancy a leap into the trees from a fourth story. He considered the layout of the giant octagonal building, trying to deduce where the stairwells were located. They already surveyed most of the east side of the building so any staircase needed to be to the area they had yet to encounter in the west. He took off running, hoping to make an escape before the place became full of soldiers. A shadow passed over behind them.

"Hey!" Bobbi yelled. Phil spun around on his heel. She sent an elbow flying into a shadowy figure. He countered, sending Bobbi flying against a wall, a golden blur. Phil blinked. The shadow closed in.

Phil's hand twitched toward his service gun. Before he could react, Bobbi leapt from the ground and onto the shadowy figure's back. She caught him around the neck and latched on.

"I got this! Get us outta here!" she bellowed at Phil before the figure swung her over his head like an angry bronco bucking a cowboy. Bobbi landed on her feet but something cracked. As Phil took off down the hall, he hoped it wasn't anything serious.

Finding a stairway was out of the question. Metal containment doors cordoned off the building. The only hope was to find a way to break through the metal slats over the windows. Phil's eyes raced to figure out the mechanical system. Long metal pins held the slats in place so they could not be moved unless they were electronically disengaged. He frowned. There had to be a way to break the pins.

Turning back to Bobbi, she didn't appear to be exactly winning. Phil blinked. Every move she made was countered fluidly. When she switched tactics, it only allowed her to squeeze in one good hit. She was getting pummeled

"Bobbi, hold on!"

"What do you think I'm doing?" she yelled as he threw open a door marked 'janitor.'

"Please be something, please be something," he muttered looking around the small closet. His eyes fell on a familiar red box on the wall. He slammed his elbow through the glass and pulled out a fire axe. "That works."

He grabbed the fire extinguisher on the way out. A vague plan formed in his mind although he wasn't sure how well it would work. Feigning confidence, he tossed the fire axe down and readied the extinguisher's hose.

"Bobbi! DUCK!" he yelled before spraying the area with a thick foamy fog. The surprise was enough to throw their attacker off balance. Phil took his window, unsure of how long it would last. He readied his arm and swung the heavy metal can. Metal connected with the side of the attacker's head and sent him reeling.

"Hold this," he ordered Bobbi while he ran back to the fire axe. She kept the nozzle aimed right at the dazed man's head. A strange look passed over Bobbi's face and she lowered the extinguisher a fraction of an inch. Her mouth formed the words 'no way' but the sounds failed to materialize.

Phil ignored everything in favor of aiming the heavy axe directly at the offending pin. He pulled his arm back and swung. Metal connected with metal with a clang and a screech. The metal pin required two more square hits before it collapsed and the metal slats fell to the floor with an echoing clatter.

"Gimmie that," demanded Phil, taking the extinguisher from Bobbi's hands and hurling it out the window in one swift motion. Time slowed to a standstill. Phil could see each shard of glass break apart as the red metal can made contact with the pane. Large gleaming knives of glass exploded toward Phil's face. He had only a moment to hold an arm up in defense to prevent his face from becoming a Picasso. A large fragment drew across his extended arm, a red line tracing its path. A sharp sensation raced along his arm and an ooze of blood felt warm against his hand. Outside a hail of bullets began puncturing the pressurized canister, sending spurts of foam into the trees in graceful arcs.

Phil grabbed Bobbi around her waist and followed the extinguisher out the window. The figure managed to wobble to a standing position and reached toward the pair as they passed through the open window and into the night. Phil saw the hand draw near Bobbi's ankle. He turned, kicked, and something crunched. Then they were falling.

Everything suddenly appeared to move faster in Phil's eyes. Bobbi clung to the tree like a koala while he slid unceremoniously onto a branch. They had to keep moving. Phil slid to the back side of the tree, to protect himself from the periodic pop of automatic gunfire. Bobbi joined him.

"You okay?" he asked in a whisper.

She shook her head, "I think I was hit."

His heart stopped beating, "Badly?"

"No. In my leg. It hurts but…"

"Can you make it to camp? Should I call for backup?"

She took a deep breath, her hand reaching around to the blossom of blood on her calf. "If I stop moving, then I will start to think about it and it will get worse."

Phil slid down from the tree and then helped Bobbi down. Behind them, chaos echoed against the night sky and alarms blared, red lights streaming into the midnight forest. Bobbi limped along, supported by Phil.

"Did you recognize him?" she gritted her teeth as the noise dissipated into the soft sounds of the woods.

"Who?" he asked

"The man in the hall," she said, "It was Masters."

Phil flinched, "No. It can't be."

She shook her head, "I went through SHIELD training with him as my drill sergeant. I will never forget the man who dragged my ass out of bed at the crack of dawn to do pushups in the mud. You don't forget that person."

Phil nodded, "You're not wrong. But what is a SHIELD agent doing running a paramilitary camp in the middle of the woods in an abandoned facility?"

"Beats the hell out of me," she muttered as they drew near the distant glow of floodlights and the familiar milling of SHIELD agents.

Tiredness settled into his bone and lingered for the entire helicopter ride back to base. A medic on the chopper tended to Bobbi's wounded leg. The metallic stench of blood lingered in the air but Phil was beyond the point of being repulsed by it. Phil tended to the cut on his arm. The wound drew blood but lacked significant depth. A touch up of gauze bandage was enough to stanch the blood flow. Another scratch adorned his forehead, narrowly missing his eye. He thanked his lucky stars that his guardian angel was still on duty.

Nick was talkative when he debriefed with Phil via satellite phone. However, Phil couldn't find the same enthusiasm, stifling yawns as much as he spoke. The sun began to peak over the Potomac River. Purple tendrils of light tickled the underside of the stormy clouds. Pink light illuminated the faraway horizon. It was the start of a new day.

"Has Bobbi told you her theory?" he hesitated before his apartment door, "About Masters?"

"She has."

"And?"

"And I trust her opinion but we need more concrete evidence. Fortunately for you, the ATF are planning on raiding the property because those guns you photographed during surveillance aren't supposed to be there. There are actually no assault rifles registered to anyone on the paperwork. Someone has explaining to do. That someone may very well be Masters."

"What happened to him? He just dropped off the map!"

"He up and quit about two years ago after we were investigating some old bunkers in East Berlin. Medical records state he suffered a nasty chemical burn. He didn't stick around long enough for us to gather data."

"So he just left? Out of nowhere?"

"We don't hold people prisoner, Coulson. It's a job, not a life sentence. Otherwise your little cactus baby wouldn't be sitting pretty."

"Don't call her that," chuckled Phil as he pulled his bag up the stairs, "She has a name."

"I know. But she is always cactus baby to me because she's a pain in my side!"

"Be nice, please," pleaded Phil.

"Whatever you say. Is there anything I need to know about before everything becomes official? Personal or property damage, for example?" asked Nick.

Phil froze with his key part way in the front door of the apartment complex. "No, not really. Well, actually, there's a broken window which may need explaining."

"A broken window? How-" Nick paused on the other end of the line. "You know what? Never mind. I'll just read the report later. You're lucky we found that ATF loophole during your recon. It might save your ass and keep us from getting sued."

"Well, good. I don't want to waste my good suit on legal hearings."

"Perish the thought."

"Oh, and Nick," Phil remembered, "We need to send that CIA knockout gas back to the drawing board. It's not working."

"Well, consider the source. These are the people who thought LSD would be a good interrogation drug." Phil could practically hear Nick's sardonic eye roll. "I'll get our tech boys to start tweaking it. Anything else you need?"

"Nope," yawned Phil and checked his watch. It showed that it was 7:30am, "I'm going to get some sleep. Is it a problem if I take today off?"

"Nah. Just bring in the report in on Monday."

When he hung up, Phil sighed. In the field, everything happened in rapid succession so there was no spare moment to contemplate your tiredness. It was only when things slowed down fatigue. He dropped his bag onto the kitchen counter next to where Maria leaned against the kitchen counter sipping coffee.

"How'd it go?" she asked.

Phil shrugged his shoulder, "Could be better, could be worse. We had to make a quick escape but we got what we needed. It's sort of a successful failure. Sorry for having you camp over. How's Evelyn?"

"No problem. She's been trying to walk," explained Maria, "But not quite there yet. I thought there was a wobble about a half hour ago but-"

Evelyn made a baby sound, her pudgy hands pressed against the side of the armchair. Her legs wobbled, but did not collapse. Phil scrambled for the camcorder from the bag, praying that he could boot it up in time. Maria's mouth hung open in surprise.

"Come on, Evey," he whispered, crouching down to her height, "Come to Papa."

The little girl took a hesitant step forward, her hand resting against the armchair. Phil held his breath as she took another step. She let go of the armchair and plodded forward two more steps. She stood, smiling in the center of the floor. Phil smiled, handing the camcorder to Maria.

"Good girl," he opened his arms, "Come here."

She wobbled in place but steadied herself. She took three more distinct steps before dropping into Phil's arms. She giggled when he fluffed her hair. He kissed her head murmuring, "Good girl Evelyn. You're a good girl."


	6. Pt 1 Ch 6: Impending Doom

"Papa!"

Phil sighed as he stuffed papers into his bag. He should be happy that Evelyn figured out speaking as well as she did but it led to his attention being continually yanked away from whatever he was doing to figure out exactly what she was trying to say. If he ignored her for too long, his three year old would keep repeating herself until he finally commented.

"Papa? Papa? Paaaaaapaaaaaaah?"

"Yes, Evelyn?"

"Play?" she smiled, holding up her wooden blocks for him. They were little pieces of hardwood painted bright colors. They were well loved and some even had bite marks from back when Evelyn was figuring out the purpose of teeth.

"I can't play today, Evelyn, sorry," he said wistfully.

"Why?" she cocked her little head to the side.

"I have to go to work."

"Why?"

"Nick said I have to," he explained, "So it must be important."

"Oh."

"You get to stay with Bobbi until I get back," explained Phil, "Can you be a good girl for Bobbi until I get back?"

"Yeah," she said softly, holding a little blue cube between her hands as an unfinished tower wobbled slightly. Phil couldn't help but feel like he had broken something. He didn't normally pass up a chance to play with her but this was different. Carefully, he knelt down next to her.

"How about we play when I get back? Is that okay?"

"Okay," she said, putting the cube down on the ground.

"Let's gather your things," said Phil, "So when Bobbi gets here, you will be ready."

"Okay," Evelyn wobbled over to her bookshelf, picking out a title with a well worn spine. It was "The Adventures of Captain America." She held the colorful cover up to him.

"Captain America!" she giggled, "You're Captain America!"

Phil couldn't help but swell up with a little bit of pride at that. He had read the old picture books and comics back when he was a little kid. He passed his old copies on to Evelyn. Somehow she got it into her head when he had to leave, he was off being Captain America. Although it wasn't exactly true, he let her believe it. She would find out the truth when he was older. Secretly, he was flattered.

Agent Morse showed up at the door about thirty minutes later. Evelyn went toddling toward her, smiling, "Bobbi!"

"Hi," she opened her arms and allowed the little girl to run into her arms, "How are you, kiddo?"

"Good!"

"Good," she smiled, ruffling the girl's fluffy hair, "How are you, Phil?"

"Doing fine," he said, "In a hurry. Fury is pulling me back into the field."

"That's odd," Morse frowned, "Why would he do that? You've been in the office for a while now."

"Not really in the office," corrected Phil, bristling a bit, "I've been out recruiting and working with the academy."

"Well," sighed Morse, "Okay, I meant that you haven't been on missions in quite some time. It just seems weird for you to be brought in on this sort of thing."

"Fury was a bit shy on details. I have to wait for the briefing. We'll see," he picked up Evelyn's backpack and handed it to Morse, "Here's her stuff. Her clothes, pj's, and some story books and toys. She likes to have a book read before she goes to bed. Uh, no later than 9:00 bedtime. She is getting the hang of potty training but sometimes she needs to be reminded to use the restroom so just ask her if she looks antsy."

"Okay," said Morse, tucking the backpack under her arm, "Pretty standard fare."

"If you have questions or there is an issue, call the office," he said nervously, "I'm going to be out of touch but they might be able to help or patch you through. I really don't know what I am doing."

"It's okay," reassured Morse, 'I've been in that boat too."

Phil sighed and knelt down to Evelyn, who was far too busy sucking her thumb to be perturbed by the grown-up discussion going on around her. He ruffled her hair, "Honey, I'm going to go now but Bobbi is going to take care of you. I'll try and call tonight if I can. If I don't make it tonight, I'll call tomorrow. Okay?"

She looked up with doe eyes, "Okay, Papa." she smiled at him. He kissed her cheek, told her he loved her, said thanks to Bobbi and left.

Stepping back into the briefing room brought back memories. The slate colored walls disguised several layers of soundproofing. Heavy navy blue carpet also keep noise levels down. What happened in the briefing room stayed in the briefing room. Faded smudges stained the small kitchenette. Whenever feet trod over the area, the bitter aroma of old coffee wafted into the air. Twelve or fifteen agents milled around, exchanging files and speaking in hushed tones. Some of them looked young. Fresh faces with wide eyes taking in every inch of the small room. Nick and Maria fiddled with an overhead projector, trying to get it to work. Phil held the file close to his chest and walked forward.

"Hi Maria, Director," he said softly.

"Phil," Maria stood straight forward, dead into Phil's eyes in the thousand-yard stare of a hardened agents, "You smell like fruit loops."

Phil cracked a smile, "Goes with the job."

"Thank you for coming, Coulson," interjected Nick, "I know this is not really your job anymore but we have very extraneous circumstances at play here."

"I'd like to know why I am in the field when I transferred out, sir," said Phil carefully.

"This is an 'all hands on deck' type of situation here," said Nick, "I'll explain more as soon as we get this damn thing to work. Sorry to be vague but it is sensitive."

Nick's eyes traveled over Phil's shoulder. He turned, following the director's gaze. Victoria Hand, a shadow within a shadow, stood by the door with her long maroon-tipped hair rippling in front of her face. Phil felt his blood chill, knowing Hand was called in. A weight settled in his stomach which refused to dissolve even after a cup of strong coffee.

"Alright everyone," announced Nick to start the meeting, "We have a mess on our hands."

He paused for a long moment to let that sink in. Most people appeared some mixture of curious and confused. The weight in Phil's stomach sank even further. Nick cleared his throat and continued.

"This is potentially very awkward for SHIELD and could end up with real problems if it gets out of hand which is why I have specifically requested each and everyone one of you to be here," he took a deep breath, "We have a rogue agent."

A groan circulated around the group and Phil was one of the ones groaning. Rogue agents could be anyone and they could do anything. They had all the resources but none of the sense. It was the worst case scenario.

The Director motioned for Hand to join him in front, "This is Agent Hand from level 8, she is well accustomed to handling catastrophes."

"Agent Clovis Hirsch is our rogue agent," said Hand, her words short and clipped. She got right down to business and skipped the preamble. Nick pulled out the first transparency and slapped in on the overhead projector. Hirsch had a wide face and dark eyes. His dark hair was cut close to his large ears. "Escaped Latveria in 1975 and officially became a US Citizen in 1977. Former Army ranger. He's been part of SHIELD since 1981 and among our upper ranks since 1984. You may know him as Coulson's replacement."

Coulson noticed that he was now being observed by a various number of agents. He straightened in his chair.

Hand continued, "He went AWOL after getting off a plane at Washington Dulles International Airport. The satellite tracking device in his gear went dark while he was in the general vicinity of the Latverian Embassy. We got a visual on him from a security camera across the road scaling the fence into the embassy."

"Has Latveria said anything?" asked a voice in the back.

"Not yet. But they will," informed Nick," It goes without saying that anything having to do with Latveria is going to be rough. Victor Von Doom is the current dictator and has been so for the past twelve years. The international community is rightfully uneasy about any sort of dictatorship. For that matter, the Soviets aren't very happy about him either. It's not common knowledge but you should know that the Soviet Union is not exactly pleased with him elbowing his way forcefully into the iron curtain and somehow managing to hold his ground despite their best efforts to deter him. They're definitely concerned. For that matter, we're concerned."

"I have a question," noted some agent Phil recognized from training, "If this guy is so horrible and everyone is scared of him, how did he manage to get an embassy here in DC? Just down the road, even?"

"Well," said Fury, crossing his arms in front of his chest, "That is the sort of thing that I would like to know as well. Unfortunately, it's not a part of our business to know, it's the State Department's. Until they feel like sharing the information with us in a way that doesn't involve giving us the runaround, I don't have a good answer to that question."

"I think the bigger question," Phil considered aloud, "Is what is Hirsch doing in the Latverian embassy in the first place?"

Nick frowned and pulled out another transparency. It was a family photo. A curly haired woman held a small girl with matching curly hair and dark eyes. The girl couldn't have been older than eight years old.

"For the past four years Hirsch has been working with us to get his family out of his homeland of Latveria. His brother, Oswald, is a journalist. He has been publishing articles about the conditions inside the country. You may have read the latest installment in the New York Times. Latveria is not happy with him. To make things even better, his wife, Matrisse, may or may not be working for the Patriotic Latverian freedom fighter group. We aren't sure because she hasn't told us. Even if she was, she might not broadcast that fact since doing so is painted red concentric circles on your chest for Doom to aim his firing squad at. They have a daughter named Elza, she's the young one in this picture. We suspect that Hirsch may have found a way to get them out of Latveria and now they are somewhere here. His latest communications indicate as much."

Nick paced the silent room for a moment. He finally looked up and met the eyes of every person in the briefing. Hand took a deep breath, "If we are going to do anything, we have to work fast. As of now, Hirsch has not defected to Latveria. We are technically within our rights to go into the embassy and retrieve him for disciplinary action. However, if he at any time petitions for sanctuary by Latveria, we have to leave immediately. We are also, under no circumstances, allowed to retrieve any member of his family if they are there."

Someone in the back raised a hand, "What if they are defecting to America?"

"Then they have to do it in regular nine to five business hours. We aren't Hirsch's personal attack dog," insisted Hand.

"We already have surveillance teams on site," explained Fury, "Hand will be supervising that branch of the operation. Those of you who are going with her can leave now for your posts. She will provide any further briefing you will need."

Phil was disappointed to see Maria leave with a flood of other agents. The room felt empty. Nick waited for the door to close before continuing.

"So now that the strike team is assembled, we can talk logistics," he said, putting a map on the projector, "The Latverian embassy is far too large to tackle with one team in the time we have so you will need to split up and clear each floor. Coulson and May will take the ground floor. Johnson and Derickson will be on second. Avory and Shah are in control of the third. Parker will be on ground floor ballroom to serve as a medic and communications backup. Your job is to find Hirsch and gather any intel regarding him and his family. If we are going to be going back in for the family, we need to know what exactly we are getting into."

"What's our entrance plan?" asked May. Phil smiled at the sight of her. He recruited her a year and a half ago and she showed a good deal of promise.

"The Latverian embassy, by law, cannot have military security. So, we are dealing with rent-a-cops here," Nick held back a chuckle. "So we don't need to be especially stealthy. Our entry point is a side door. This door dumps right into the main ballroom so Parker can set up and everyone can take the stairs to their proper destinations. Keep an eye open for security but we are only picking up three on the premises and two are outside. You will need to watch out for the nightly cleaning crew and other personnel. Do not engage."

"What happens when we find Hirsch?" asked Phil, "Chances are, he isn't going to come willingly."

"You are free to apprehend him for disciplinary action if he does not leave on his own accord," answered Nick, "Do what you need to do. However, try to be as subtle as possible. We're not here to create a stink if we don't have to. Now, if we have no further questions, we have things to do."

Once orders were given out, Phil went over to Nick. The director saw him coming. "I know you want to chat about why I brought you in."

"Yes sir. You didn't explain much in the briefing. The current group of agents for this mission is more than enough to handle the rouge situation. Why did you ask me?"

"I don't feel comfortable bringing in fresh blood to the strike team because of how sensitive this thing is. I need someone who can treat this with some delicacy. Furthermore, because you are a higher up, he might be willing to trust you," said Fury in an undertone.

"I got out of combat for valid reasons," insisted Phil, "Not just because I don't like the smell."

"Yes, your cactus baby. I know," sighed Nick. "This is an exception, Coulson. Not the rule. I promise. Now, get on a bus."

The helicopter ride to the middle of the city did not take long at all. Swarms of SHIELD agents set up in the perimeter. Every inch of the embassy appeared dotted with lasers and sensors. Parker sat at the surveillance table next to Maria, a large pair of headphones pulled over his ears. He smiled when Phil drew near. May already took up her post near the gate, a stoic figure among the frazzled nerves of the rest of the team.

"We're about ready," Parker said, throwing a shaky thumbs up in Phil's direction, "Just waiting to finish the satellite scans. Our bird will be passing over any minute. Then we are totally set to go."

"Do we know for sure the locations of people in the building?"

"Our heat scans are inconclusive because of the old steam heating system. They have the internal temperature cranked up for some reason," said Maria.

"Is Doom anywhere around?" Phil tried not to betray his nervousness in his voice.

"We don't have any proof that Doom is on the premises," noted Parker, "Flight records say the Imperial Plane has touched down but we have yet to make a positive sighting of the main man. We have some weird irregularities within the building grounds but nothing conclusive. Maria touched upon the issue with the heat. We're also picking up some weird radio waves. But that could just mean someone has a nice stereo or a police scanner. The problem is that Doom has kept Latveria sealed like shrink wrap so we don't know what kind of technology or weapons they have."

"Great," grumbled May, "So we are completely blind."

"There is also a lot of local rumor and speculation that Doom is a powerful magician and experimenting with combining sorcery with weapons technology."

"Come on," scoffed Phil, "Magic?"

Maria shrugged, "Laugh it off. But there is a somewhat logical explanation for the rumor."

Phil snickered, "I would love to hear it."

"The last known census in the area which is currently Latveria had a high percentage of Romany people," noted Maria, "Along with various other nomadic groups that we would collectively call 'gypsies.' There is a rich history and very active magical culture dating all the way back to at least Rome. I think there is a very good possibility that Doom is using local folklore and superstition to boost his own power. If nothing else, it offers up an explanation as to why people are scared of him."

"I think that sounds a hell of a lot more plausible than real magic," noted Phil, "How long til we move?"

"Aerial scans are complete. Data is transmitting. We should get ready."

The side door opened without protest. Wordlessly, SHIELD agents flooded in and took up positions on all three floors. Phil crept along, May at his heels. His fingers glanced over the oak paneled walls, feeling for vibrations. The golden thread running through the forest green tapestries sparkled in the amber cloche sconces which lined the walls. Heavy fabric shifted back and forth with puffs of hot air from the vents. Sweat pooled around Phil's collar.

May peeked into one room, a massive ballroom, while Phil covered the door. Sweat started to drip down his temple and he brushed it away. The hall felt stifling. He yearned for a gulp of clean air. When he commented on it, May shot him a look.

"It's an old steam heating system," she whispered, "It may be faulty."

Phil watched as sweat pooled on May's brow. "They could be doing it on purpose. To get us to leave."

'That seems needlessly complicated," insisted May. She looked up and down the hall, "This will take forever. I'll cover the east and north sections if you take this hall and the south."

"You sure that's smart?' Phil's hand started to reach toward his hip, but then remembered his holster wasn't on his person, just in case of accidents. "We don't know what all is here. If one of us got in a jam, we would be on our own."

"We're adults. We can handle ourselves. Also, we're in an embassy. What kind of shit can we get into?"

Phil sighed, "You'd be surprised."

Reluctantly, the pair split up. Phil began walking down the hall while May ran ahead. Her footsteps echoed up and around the hall. His own feet tapped against the parquet flooring. Every slight noise compounded with the returning echo.

The heat didn't abate as he cleared each room. His shirt clung to his skin under the bulletproof vest and the warm scent of sweat wafted through the air. The dark green tapestries reached up toward the roof. The crown molding seemed to grow farther away. The roof extended farther upward, like the room was growing, or he was shrinking. Phil turned, looking down the hall toward the center foyer. The hall stretched out and simultaneously raced up to meet him. Putting one foot in front of the other took a tremendous amount of effort. A gripping sensation surrounded his legs, as though quicksand pulled him down, toward some dark place.

He stopped in the middle of the hall, resting his hands on his knees. His heart punched in his chest. Dizziness overwhelmed his senses to the point where his eyes could not focus on any one thing. The sound of footsteps surrounded him, smothering him.

"Breathe," he ordered himself, slamming his eyes closed so the blackness of his eyelids blocked out the blurry images rushing in front of his eyes. As suddenly as the dizziness enveloped him, it dissipated. He stood, tentatively taking a few steps down the hall. Feeling better, he hurried into the center foyer.

The rotunda was massive. The lower walls were coated with green damask wallpaper. The golden moulding was adorned with statues of pudgy cherubs holding scrolls and cornucopias overflowing with fruit and grains. Their dead, empty eyes stared down at the unwelcome guests. The dome was adorned with a ceiling mural depicting pastoral scenes of rolling hills, milkmaids, shepherd boys, and flocks of doves. His eyes watered as sweat seeped in along the sides. The ceiling blurred into a green and blue smear. Faces become horribly contorted masks with drooping eyes and lolling mouths.

"Phil!" said Parker, running toward him, "You okay?"

"I think so," said Phil uneasily, "I'm getting vertigo. Pretty bad."

"Uh oh."

"It's passed now," said Phil, rubbing the space between his eyebrows, The ceiling went back to normal. "I don't know what came over me. I just suddenly felt really awful."

"I'm actually not surprised. The entire building was intended to be an optical illusion. Once upon a time, this building was an theater." explained Parker, "It is intended to appear bigger on the inside so as to impress the clientele."

"It's working," Phil mumbled. Parker grabbed his chin and shone a light into his eyes. Phil blinked as a swarm of black dots impeded his vision when the light drew away. He blinked and the roving spots vanished into a fog.

"I'll need to check you out when we get back, just to be sure," insisted Parker, "But you seem fine right now. I think you're just another victim of the building. It's a well documented phenomena."

"Great."

"You have great company," assured Parker, tapping him on the shoulder, "The Queen of Sweden attended a concert here and had to leave in the first act because the building started to affect her."

"Thank you," smiled Phil, "You seen May?"

"I saw her run to the north wing but I haven't seen her since."

Phil bit his lip, "Keep an eye open. If you don't see her soon, radio for backup."

"She said the same thing about you," smiled Parker as Phil turned and began to walk carefully down the south wing. He took time to pause several times along the hall to ensure he wasn't going to get nauseous again.

The first three rooms were empty. The fourth room was locked. Phil tried the handle again. He couldn't hear the lock clicking. He carefully turned the doorknob and it rotated freely both ways. Someone or something was holding the door closed.

Phil stepped back and walked a short distance down the hall. Carefully, he crept back against the wall in an attempt to prevent his feet from making too much noise. He wrapped his hand around the knob and flung the door open. As expected, it swung open freely. He stepped in, hand on his stun gun.

The dark room appeared to be a study, lined on three sides with bookshelves. Wide windows with ornate stained glass at the top were flanked by thick green velvet curtains. A shadow moved against the pale moonlight.

"Hirsch?" he whispered, testing his hunch.

It took a long moment before the shadow walked toward the light, "Coulson?"

"Hey, come out here, buddy," said Phil carefully, "We're here for you."

He stepped out into the hall. His soft curly hair fell in front of his shimmering blue eyes. He was sweating profusely, but a smile crept across his face. "Man, am I glad to see you."

"Same," said Phil, "Same... What they heck are you doing here? We were scared stiff that something bad happened to you."

"I know," he said, "I'm sorry. I saw you guys arrive and realized this created a stink. I didn't mean for that to happen."

"Well, we're here. Let's get you out and we'll figure things out. It's hot as hell here," Phil turned to walk back down the hall. Hirsch didn't move. Phil turned back, confused, "What's wrong?"

"Phil," he ran a nervous hand through his hair, "I need your help. My family managed to sneak into the States. They're here somewhere. I need to find them and get them out. Once representatives of the Latverian government get here… I-I'll never see them again."

"Okay. Back up. How do you know this?" asked Phil cautiously, "I mean, are you positive that they are here in the first place?"

"My brother, he sent me a letter," he pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over to Phil, "Don't try reading, it's coded. We had to code everything to thwart the censors. But suffice it to say that he found a way out and he would meet us here. That's all I know. But it's definitely his handwriting and it's definitely our code."

"Look," said Phil, pocketing the note, "I'm sure Fury and Hand can figure something out. But right now you are a rogue agent. As long as you have that status, our hands are tied. We can't help them if you don't help us."

Hirsch clenched his fists at his side, "Phil, they're here. If I don't get them… I won't see my daughter ever again! Do you understand that?"

Phil felt his blood run cold and the sweat on his body chilled in a flash. Evelyn's baby face flashed in front of his eyes. He swallowed and tried to keep his terror to himself. "I'm sorry. I can't leave with anyone but you. You have to come with us and then we'll work on helping others out."

"You don't understand! There isn't time!" insisted Hirsch.

Phil held up a hand to stop him, "You know the policy."

"Fuck policy," spat Hirsch as he started to take off down the hall in a blind sprint.

Fortunately, Phil was a bit faster on his draw. The stun gun struck Hirsch right in the back. Blue lightning shot along his shoulders to the tips of his fingers. He collapsed to the floor like a rag doll. Phil sighed, and walked over to pull the twitching agent onto his shoulders.

"C'mon, buddy," muttered Phil, "We're getting you out of here or we're all in trouble."

He started to carry the limp agent out of the hallway, retracing his steps back to the center hall where he would meet up with the rest of the team. For some reason, his legs seemed wobbly. Initially he chalked it up to the additional dead weight he was carrying but then it grew worse, to the point where Phil had to stop himself from veering into a wall.

Nausea started to set in like a fog, growing in intensity until he was sure he was going to throw up. The golden hall faded in and out of focus. No matter how far he walked, it seemed like the green-wallpapered center never grew closer.

Dropping to one knee, Phil tried to get his bearings again and shake off the sudden sickness. It barely helped. The dizziness abated but the nausea was so severe, he felt like he was about to vomit. Tiredness settled in like a weight on his chest and eventually everything fell into blackness.

It seemed like only a few moments later when he awoke to someone slapping his cheek gently with one hand and another hand holding his eye open while a piercing bright light shone into it.

"Good, you're awake," said a voice.

Phil sat bolt upright, looking around to see who exactly was slapping him and where he was, "What?"

His vision re-focused even though he was seeing a dance of multicolored dots through his left eye from having the light shone in it. But the green wallpaper of the main hallway of the Latverian Embassy came into view and Phil was able to more or less place himself. He was sitting on the cold tile of the main hall with agents Parker and May kneeling next to him. The former tucked the medical flashlight into his vest.

"Take it easy," ordered May, "What happened?"

Phil wondered the exact same thing. It took him a moment to retrace his steps to his last coherent memory, "I was walking down the west hall with Hirsch. I was carrying him. I had to stun him because he wasn't going to go back willingly. Then I started feeling sick and…"

The thought hit him like a punch to the face and he frantically started looking around, "Where's Hirsch?"

Parker shrugged a shoulder, "We don't know still. May was concerned when you didn't meet at the rendezvous. We saw you passed out right at the entrance to the west hall. Hirsch was nowhere in sight."

"Shit," swore Phil, "Shit… where'd he get off to?"

"We're heading back to regroup and establish radio contact," explained Parker, "We can figure it out from here."

"I found his tracking beacon," grumbled May, pulling it out of her pocket, "It was on a windowsill back there. So, he could be anywhere in the building by now."

"Or out of the building," noted Parker.

"No," corrected Phil as he sat up, "He said his family was nearby. He urgently needed to get them out. I'm not sure the details. But I bet wherever they are, he is, and they're somewhere around here."

"We have no way to confirm that or track that," said Parker nervously, "We can re-establish contact with HQ and figure out what the next step is. Let's not run blind anymore and make a hasty decision."

"You're right," echoed Phil as he started to stand, "Let's look at this reasonably."

"Are you good to walk?" asked May, grabbing his elbow to help him stand.

"I feel fine," said Phil, "Whatever that was, I think I've shaken it."

"We'll need to test you for pathogens or chemicals when we get back," noted Parker, "Since we don't know what hit you."

"Aw…"

"It's fine, I was going to test you anyway," he informed him, "We had a spike in airborne particles so all of us are going to get quarantined."

Phil frowned. He would have to take five decontamination showers before seeing Evelyn. Bobbi would not be happy to stay overnight. Evelyn's face lingered in the back of his mind. He had an overwhelming need to hold his baby girl.

"We're leaving," insisted May, shouldering her pack.

"It just doesn't make sense," said Phil, standing, "I just dropped Hirsch. He cannot have gotten far. He's out for the count. I don't understand."

Parker looked around the agents. May shrugged and slid her pack onto the floor. "If it was only a few minutes ago, we might be able to pick up a heat signature and track where he was taken. That's if we can, given the fact it's a sauna in here."

"Do it," ordered Phil.

Parker sighed and pulled out the infrared camera. The room glowed faintly yellow on the screen. He sighed as he walked down the hall, "Sorry. I'm not picking anything up. The room is just to h-"

He paused, staring intently at the screen. Phil turned his head to get a better look. A red splotch smeared across the floor dominated the screen. Parker inched closer and a handprint began to take shape.

"There's something here," Parker whispered, placing his hand next to the bloody - colored print. The tile shifted under his fingertips. Parker stood, jumping out of the way.

Phil slid his fingers along the edge of the tile. A small purchase ran along the edge, invisible to the average passerby. He pulled out his old pocketknife, wiggling the blade under the stone so it lifted free. A deep hole, leading into the bowels of the wet earth, opened to them. The warm, moist aroma of earthworms and mud rose into the arid hall.

"Masks," ordered Parker, "everyone needs to put on masks. We don't know what kind of asbestos shit is down there."

Phil donned his mask. His hot breath caressed his face. A prickly sensation crept along his chin. He became aware that he needed to shave. The sharp, stabbing hairs made him itch.

Phil lowered himself down the trapdoor into the thick, hot pocket of air. When he let go of the floor, the moist dirt ground reached up to him and eagerly drew him in. A raw, pungent odor filtered up from the ground. Rot and decay surrounded him, tentacle tendrils coiling up his legs. The warm aroma of compost seized his chest in dirty, yellowed claws. Bile bubbled in his stomach and he held back the urge to retch.

His eyes took a long moment to adjust to the murky darkness. Vague outlines of oily brass machines oozed in and out of the darkness. The rhythmic clanking of the old machines dogged his footprints as Phil groped along the moist walls for any sort of lighting panel. His fingers glanced over the greasy pitted bricks, the black residue clung to him like a curse. When he finally yanked on a protruding lever, red safety lights cast a dim glow through an impenetrable maze of pipes.

Sweat dripped down his forehead as he picked his way forward in the hazy crimson aura. The stagnant odor lingered around his head, becoming more potent as he hurried deeper into the mire. Rhythmic banging emanated from massive vintage boilers. Steam screeched from pressure valves, a shrill, toe-curling wail.

"Jeez," Phil jumped back, narrowly avoiding banging his head on a low pipe. His heart pummeled his chest. Dark closed in around the corners of his eyes for a flickering moment.

"Do you smell something?" Asked May as she slid down into the darkness next to him.

"Compost," said Phil, "What are you getting?"

"Something very... bitter."

Phil looked around, "I still can't see a damn thing down here. Parker? Do you still have your light?"

The man slid down next to them, dragging a large backpack and the infrared camera down with him. The tiny beam of light barely penetrated the darkness but a narrow path between the pipes arose.

"Let's hurry up," demanded May. "This place gives me the creeps."

The trio wove between the pipe systems. A clanking noise followed them, like the triple hoof beats of a cantering horse. Phil followed the silvery beam of the flashlight dancing through a smoky haze. The faint scent of burning wood lingered in the mask. He caught a glimpse over at May. Dark eyes brimmed with tears.

"Are you okay?"

"No. That smell is overwhelming."

"What smell?" Asked Parker.

"What do you mean? That really bad smell, like rotting nuts. I can't really describe it. It's just foul."

"I'm not getting it."

Phil shook his head, "Me either."

May looked like she was going to say something but her words were cut off by a series of piercing screams rattling through the pipes. Tiny hairs on the back of Phil's neck stood on end. His heart skipped a beat. He became acutely aware of his own heavy breathing inside his mask. The screaming didn't stop.

"That's not the steam," whispered Phil.

They raced in the direction of the screams. A heavy metal door, thick like a safe, stood between them and whoever (or whatever) was wailing. May checked the crank on the door but it held fast, rusted shut with long red gashes of wear.

"Help!" Screamed a woman, "Help!"

She was interrupted by a bout of heavy coughing which descended into a gagging, retching, choking gurgle. May frantically ran her hands along the walls, searching for a way to disengage the lock. Phil looked around for something, anything, to break the door down as it was too thick for his pocket knife. His hands found a loose piece of pipe somewhere on the floor among other sticky debris. The end was too big to fit in the narrow crack of the door but he tried anyway, jamming it in with a loud clank.

A noise somehow snuck through the chaos, so quiet he almost missed it. A faint, petite voice wormed its way into his brain.

"Papa."

Phil froze. A sinking, hollow feeling crept into him, like death itself reached in and grabbed his heart in skeletal hands. His limbs moved against his will, trying to pry the door open. His face suddenly went cold, wave of icy wind nipping at his cheeks. He closed his eyes, praying he didn't hear what he thought he heard.

After what felt like an eternity, the door disengaged. Freezing cold green - blue smoke poured out, flooding the room around their ankles. Parker and May jumped out of the way, avoiding the oncoming tide.

"All agents evacuate!" May's voice sounded far away. "We have chemical weapons on the basement level. Repeat. Unknown chemical weapons. Requesting evac."

The world faded into a black haze as Phil felt his legs move forward. He didn't want to know, but he had to see for himself. He charged into the haze dispute the caustic burning around his eyes.

The flashlight illuminated the grisly scene in a steely glow. Deep claw marks penetrated the dirt floor. A dark haired woman sprawled face down at the door, broken fingernails dirtied with muck and rust, evidence that she clawed for her life. Tendrils of poison wove through her hair like a macabre ribbon.

Three more figures slumped deeper in the room. Hirsch's crystal blue eyes stared at nothing. A trickle of blood leaked from blistered purple lips, vomit soaked into the front of his shirt. A similar looking man lay on the floor. A pool of bile filled his mouth. His eyes were rimmed with red and flooded with dark blood vessels. Blood trickled from his eyelids and protruding ears.

But Phil's heart shattered at the doll - like figure Hirsch held in his arms tightly. Her long hair fell in lovingly crafted curls around her face. Blue eyes stared off into heaven, her listless expression mirroring her father's. Her gray cheeks were rouged with her father's blood and her purple lips were desecrated by foul, foaming yellow fluid. Her fingers stiffened in death, still clutching the front of her father's shirt. She clung to the father trying to protect her.

"Phil... we gotta get out of here. Now," said a muffled voice from somewhere far away. Phil didn't respond. He couldn't open his mouth. If he tried to speak, he would scream.

"We have to take them," he said at long last, unsure if he spoke the words aloud or merely thought them. It felt surreal. Nothing else in front of him made any sense. A voice chanted somewhere:

 _Don't look._

 _It's not there._

 _Don't look._

 _It's not real._

 _Don't look._

"We have to get them out of here so they can go home," he insisted even though the nonsense words rang dissonant in his ears.

"Phil there isn't time. We are all going to be in trouble if the gas goes again."

"We have to take them home."

 _It's not real._

The girl's dead eyes drilled into his soul, piercing into him like thousands of needles. Horrible empty eyes with matte pupils and bloody lids. The eyes burned into his brain. Even when he closed his eyes they were there: ever watching. He was only vaguely aware of the movements of the disjointed movements of his limbs.

 _Don't look._

Phil didn't know how long he zoned out but next thing he remembered was sitting, buckled into his seat in a helicopter. A plastic blanket bound his limbs close to his body so all he could do was stare listlessly at the heavy metal door and listen to a conversation between Maria and Fury.

"We can't touch them," said Fury, rage contorting his face, "Diplomatic immunity and we don't have undeniable proof he did anything. Hell, we don't even know if he was on the premises."

"That's bullshit," snapped Maria, "There are four dead bodies on the embassy grounds."

"We have nothing forensic to tie Doom directly to it. Even though everyone here knows who did this, nobody is going to speak up. And, the cherry on top, we have no probable cause for a warrant," he looked around, "We barely have grounds to justify our presence there."

Exhaustion overwhelmed Phil's senses and he blacked out into the soft, velvety arms of unconsciousness. He could stay in the cool embrace and feel nothing. The pure emptiness soothed his soul like water to a burn.

Suddenly a loud noise pulled him abruptly into reality. Pain filled his joints and he became aware of the heaviness of his limbs. It felt like a swarm of bees circled his head, stinging and buzzing. He soon realized it was only the sound of the helicopter blades as they touched down on the landing pad in DC.

"Okay, Buddy," said Parker's voice over the rustle of plastic, "let's get you out of here."

Phil allowed his body to be guided through the process of decontamination. Swabs were taken of his clothing before it was incinerated. He slumped in the middle of the showers as he was blasted with water and solvent by men in yellow rubber suits. He barely felt the high powered water blasts rip into his body and pull at his flesh like fishhooks. Red swatches marred his skin from the force of the water but numbness already set in. He was an empty glass in the dishwasher, at the mercy of the water.

He found himself stuffed into sweatpants and a baggy tee shirt and dumped into the conference room to debrief. People spoke around him but it all sounded like a jumble of nonsense words and white noise.

"We have no official statement from Latveria yet," said Maria, picking her familiar voice out of the mess, "but the head of cleaning informed Shah there was a scheduled fumigation for this evening. It is our opinion that they are using this for a cover."

Fury glared down the table, his eye drilling a hole into the polished surface. His voice was low and dangerous, filled with barely-contained rage. "So a band of political dissidents who happen to be there at this time just happened to get caught during fumigation. This just... happens?"

Silence around the room. Nobody spoke. Nobody had an answer. Phil stared into a Styrofoam cup of coffee someone placed in front of him. Undissolved powdered creamer clung to the sides. The strong aroma of burned coffee made his stomach twist. He subtly pushed the cup away.

The door to the conference room opened and Victoria Hand walked in. She pushed her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose and pressed her maroon lips together. A package of assorted notebooks and files filled her arms.

"We have a statement from Latveria. Delivered by courier."

Fury bade her continue, his voice oozed sarcasm, "I would _love_ to hear what Latveria has to say on the matter."

"Doom says he won't press for legal action," explained Hand carefully, pulling a sheet of legal paper from a manila envelope.

Fury turned quickly, eye glinting in the low light. He spoke calmly but the anger simmered. "Oh, well, isn't that just fucking magnanimous of him! I have a dead agent and three dead civilians on US soil and the one thing we have as compensation is that we won't get sued. Woop-de-fucking-do!"

Everyone was quiet under the flickering conference light. There was simply nothing to say. Each looked at the other and back again. Phil crossed his arms and tried to hold back the flood of emotion resting just behind his facade. His lip trembled.

He didn't call himself sentimental. The last time he wanted to cry this badly was when he was twelve. It was a hot balmy day in St Louis. His mother was handed the folded flag while he held onto his sister while the casket descended into the earth. Janey cried into his Sunday shirt. She looked up at him.

Blue eyes.

"We're going to get him," said Fury, pulling Phil from his living nightmare. "I don't know how. I don't even really care how. But we're going to get him and get him good. I want undercover ops in Latveria starting yesterday. If he so much as farts, we know what it smells like."

Phil didn't speak. Every new detail made his heart break more until he couldn't take it. He abruptly left the conference room so he could stand at the window as soon as the briefing ended. The river was a dark smear through the city lights as they blossomed under the overcast sky. The spire of the Washington monument glowed the familiar golden hue. Dawn slept in that day, leaving swirling clouds and the threat of a rainstorm.

He let the tears fall at long last, the tears he wanted to shed for the poor little girl, dead in her father's arms for reasons she probably didn't understand. He sobbed quietly putting his arm up against the glass. He caught a glimpse of his face in the window: an unshaven mess with reddening eyes and a prickly red rash on his face from the mask. He didn't know how long he stood there, lamenting the heinous acts. A heavy hand rested on his shoulder.

"If you need someone to talk to..." Nick assured.

"I... I just need to let this one out, Director. But thanks." He cleared his throat, embarrassed at the fragility of his voice.

"I meant professionally. There was some bad shit that went down. Nobody needs to see that." There was still a rumble of thunder in his voice.

"I'll keep it in mind."

Nick stood next to him as the city slept at their feet. Phil wiped his nose in the sleeve of the oversized shirt. He started to feel himself again. The pain kept his thoughts messy and his chest tight but he no longer felt on the outside looking in, a stranger in his own body.

"Nick, Evey and I need to disappear," said Phil quietly, looking down at his hands.

"I'll make an appointment for you."

"I don't…" His mind flashed back, he squeezed his eyes shut, "I looked at that little girl and she...she looked like..." he began to hyperventilate.

"Hey," interrupted Nick grabbing him by the shoulders to steady him, "Evelyn is fine. She is safe at home in her bed. Morse is not going to let anything happen to her. You will get home and she will be waiting for you with a big smile on her face."

Phil took a deep breath and felt the billion nervous thoughts in his head settle. He nodded, unable to speak without making a mess.

"Grab a bunk. Get some sleep," ordered Nick, "You'll feel better."

Phil took a deep breath, "I'm going to go home. I need to..."

"Are you good to drive?"

"I'll be okay," Phil said. He didn't believe it.

The ride home felt excruciatingly long. The normal twenty minutes commute felt like a small eternity. He tapped the steering wheel impatiently at every red light, chewing on his lower lip in frustration. As he drove home, he blew through empty intersections.

He bolted up the stairs of his apartment building, taking the steps two at a time. His fingers shook as he fumbled with the keys in the lock. The door swung open.

Bobbi looked like she had been sleeping. Her hair pulled up in a sloppy ponytail, eyes slightly unfocused, and a wobble to the firearm she held in front of her. She blinked and lowered her weapon.

"Oh, Phil… I'm glad it's you."

"Do you usually greet houseguests with a firearm?" asked Phil, sliding off his backpack.

"Sorry," she set the firearm back in the holster and put it back in her bag, "It's four in the morning and I heard loud noises. I got a bit jumpy."

"How are things?"

"Fine. Evelyn's a real cutie. She wanted me to read Captain America stories all night. She almost has those books memorized," she chuckled, "I'm actually impressed. She can practically read on her own."

Phil kicked his backpack off to the side and sat down at the bar, running a hand through his hair. His legs ached, the dull pain extending all the way up his waist. Bobbi's smile faded at the sight of the sober look in Phil's eyes.

"You okay?"

He started to say 'fine' but stopped. It was not fine. It was not the slightest bit fine. It would never be fine. There was no sense lying about it. Phil sighed, "It was a bad one."

"Do you need to talk?"

He looked away, "Not now. I've done all the talking I can handle tonight. I need to see Evelyn."

Bobbi nodded, "She's in her room."

Phil nodded and shuffled down the dark hall. He could feel Bobbi's eyes in the back of his head, watching. He pushed the door open. The first beams of light started to peek between the curtains, casting the room in a shimmery glow.

She slept on her small bed, blue knit blanket pulled up to her shoulders. Her hair had grown more red in the past year, carrot-colored locks spread across her pillow. Phil sat on the foot of her bed, watching her lazily rub her eye. She made a tiny noise.

"Papa?

"Evey? I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

She didn't respond as she continued to rub her eye. Phil thought she might have been talking in her sleep. Suddenly sleepy brown eyes looked up at him. A smile radiated in the early morning sun.

"Hi Papa."

She radiated with mirth and life. Her lively eyes danced when they met his. Her little hands reached up to him, eager for a hug. He pulled her small body into his arms, holding her for a long time. She smelled like strawberries and baby powder. Her little heartbeat fluttered in his hands. When he finally let her go, her smile had faded.

"Why are you crying?" She asked.

Phil looked away, embarrassed that she had to see him compromised like this. It took him a moment to regain his composure before he looked back to her.

"I just missed you, Evey. I missed you a lot."

She looked solemnly up at him, "Can we play today?"

Her wide hazel eyes looked eagerly up at him. Her eyes pleading, reaching out to him. His eyes flooded with tears and he hugged her again.

"Papa?" she asked softly.

"Yes, Evey, I'll play," sniffled Phil, his voice cracking. The emotions of the day hit him like a tide. He tightened his hug and began to cry, the emotions churning from shock to gutted fear as he hid his guttural sobs in her hair.

She was here. She was alive. And he was going to keep it that way.


	7. Pt 1 Ch 7: Tabula Rasa

The building was known among SHIELD agents as "The Alibi." The simple, nondescript stone building blended in with many of the other buildings along Fulton Street. It was known formally as the Missouri Building and home of Fascination Data. It was a company that collected advertisement data from TV and radio and kept records of demographic changes.

It was also a lie.

Fascination Data was a phony company used by SHIELD agents to explain their whereabouts. Business trips out of town were paid for by the company and actually just a guise to keep their agents who still kept a foot on the grid as covert as possible.

Phil walked up to the building. He had never thought he would have to go here. He never thought he would need his life rearranged. All because of a little girl in New Mexico. He paused, his mind reeling and focusing on the family that was massacred at the embassy. He clamped down on that memory and reminded himself that it was going to be worth it in the long run and hoped he would continue to believe it.

The inside of the building was made up of dark oak wood floors that creaked like skeleton joints. The wood paneling that lined all four walls was broken up only by a few stuffy oil paintings of scenes from American history: the crossing of the Delaware River, Teddy Roosevelt and the rough riders, the landing at Iwo Jima. The one interesting feature of the room was the fresco on the ceiling. It depicted a full map of the fifty states and all the presidents, including the new President Reagan. Cherubs holding American flags decorated the corners. Scrolls surrounded the room, spelling out the words of the Declaration of Independence and Preamble to the Constitution. Although the outside of the building was innocuous enough, the inside seemed to have forgotten that the government agency was supposed to be secret.

Phil double-checked the slip of paper that had been passed to him by an undercover drop. His appointment was located in the basement, an unusual place to do business. At the same time, it seemed unusually fitting considering the shadowy world he was about to step into. The clanking elevator sank down into the bowels of the earth. It felt like a wrought iron cage holding him in as the blackness closed in.

When it finally came to a stop, he looked around at the world he had stumbled into. Aisles and aisles of bookshelves stretched on as far as he could see, stretching from floor to ceiling. Each shelf was full of boxes, labelled in bold pen strokes and color-coordinated by large colorful stickers. It was such an intricate system that Phil had to wonder what it all meant.

"Hello?"

Phil almost jumped out of his skin at the gurgling voice that seemed to come out of nowhere. He whipped around, looking to find out where the voice came from. It only took him a moment to locate the solid wooden desk directly off to his side and the strange-looking woman behind it.

Her name was Elsa Brandford, but SHIELD knew her as "The Cleaner." She rested like a reclusive spider in the murky parts of SHIELD, the world acting as her web. Pulling a gossamer thread here or there changed the course of history. If you needed to disappear, die, or otherwise strike yourself from the record, she could erase any mention of you from every record in the world. She spun new identities, new people, new stories, for agents. Phil had never met her before but The Cleaner's power was well known around SHIELD, almost an urban legend. The organization probably couldn't exist without her.

Phil was a bit surprised to see the lanky lady behind the desk. Frail, thin strands of hair hung limply around her face, reminiscent of cornsilk in texture and color. Her wrinkled, raisin-like face seemed to be collapsing in on itself in a perpetual lemon-sucking pout with nonexistent lips cast in shadow under a prominent beaked nose. Thin chrome reading glasses pinched the bridge of her nose. She very much reminded him of an old barn owl.

"Phil Coulson?" she rasped like a death rattle, "You're late. Your appointment was at 9:45."

"Traffic," explained Phil breathlessly. The old lady made him incredibly uneasy, as though he was meeting the grim reaper, "I hope it isn't a problem."

She sucked her lips in farther in irritation. It made Phil half-afraid that she would end up eating her own chin. She picked up a folder from her table.

"Director Fury said you wanted this to be processed as soon as possible. The official story is that Phil and Evelyn Coulson died in a small Dash-8 plane crash between Seattle and Vancouver, BC. He was heading up to meet a college friend. Official cause of death is smoke inhalation compounded with extensive third-degree burns. The child died on impact. You don't want to see the pictures, They're quite gruesome. There was a small, private funeral with just family and close friends at the home cemetery in Clay Center, Nebraska. They were in a closed coffin, due to the extent of the burn damage in the crash. After the funeral, both were cremated with their ashes spread across the backyard of the family home. No wife or next of kin, so his will dictated his possessions and modest estate be donated to the local Presbyterian church to help fund the 4-H clubs that meet there."

A strange, sinking sensation in his stomach made Phil feel a little sick. It was strange to hear his obituary read out loud this way. Even more disturbing to hear his daughter's death spelled out so plainly. It was like being a ghost. Her rasping voice didn't help matters any.

"Your prints are erased from the system, as is every mention of Phil Coulson growing up," she continued, handing him a folder, "As soon as the death certificates come through, Phil and Evelyn Coulson will be completely gone from the grid. Your new identities are Phil and Evelyn Carlton. He grew up in Burnsville, Minnesota. Adopted a girl from the land of enchantment. Closed adoption sorts out the loose ends. He likes long walks on the beach, pina coladas, getting caught in the rain, and doesn't really like yoga."

"I hope you're kidding."

"I am," she said joylessly, handing him a folder, "Just making sure you are paying attention. You will find the birth certificates, social security cards, driver's license, newspaper clippings, and anything else you may need to establish the Carlton's life in there."

Phil stood there for a long time, staring down at the stack of papers in his hand. He felt wobbly, a little bit sick. He took a deep breath and put the file into his briefcase. He let out a heavy sigh, looking back up at The Cleaner. She stared with lidless eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I think," admitted Phil, "It's all just a bit... strange."

She nodded, "That's usually how people feel. Come back if you need anything. I'll be here."

"Really?" asked Phil. He didn't intend to be rude but the woman was one step away from being a skeleton, "Begging your pardon."

"I stayed alive for seventy-two years on a strict diet of menthol cigarettes and gin," she said, "I plan on lasting another seventy years and I shan't change a thing."

"I meant, do you often get repeat customers?"

She nodded, "It is difficult to stay on the grid and stay under the radar. I would almost be so bold as to say it is impossible. Good on you for trying, but I _will_ be seeing you again."

"No offense, ma'am, but you won't," smiled Phil. With that, he tucked the file under his arm and left without another word, walking back out onto the New York City street and into the light.

He hailed a cab to take him all the way up to the Upper West Side. SHIELD placed the family in a suite in a small hotel in the shadow of the Stark building. Phil hurried to reunite with his daughter and get things settled. Central park erupted in red and gold leaves. Autumn lay out an opulent carpet for him to tread through. Crisp air snuck between buildings to bite at his exposed ears and nose. Phil found his heart a bit lighter now as filtered sunlight reached between the low hanging clouds. It was nearly Thanksgiving and he could take Evelyn to the Macy's parade. She would like it. At Christmas, they could go to the skating rink. When she was older, he would take her to Times Square on New Years. He found himself smiling. He could get used to living in new York.

He opened the door to the suite and peered in. Nobody was around. Everything looked like it had been cleaned. Fresh white towels rested on the counter, folded so the monogram faced upwards. He wondered if Maria might have taken Evelyn for a walk until he heard the stampede of little feet. Evelyn skipped a lot of the awkward toddling phase and went straight to running. Now it was difficult to get her to stop.

"Papa!" She yelled, racing toward him with arms outstretched.

"Hello, baby girl," smiled Phil as he scooped up Evelyn and spun her around so she giggled and squealed with delight.

"Papa!" she squeaked, hugging him tightly with her little pudgy toddler arms. Phil returned her embrace as he set her back on the floor. He didn't want to let her go.

"I love you, baby girl."

"I love you too, Papa!"

He held her tightly, burying his face in her soft hair, trying to hide the bittersweet feeling lodged between his ribs. He missed her so badly even though he was only gone for a few hours. His mind kept flickering back to the embassy. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake a sense of dread which lingered in his heart.

"Are you still sad?" asked Evelyn, noticing his sniffling again.

"No," Phil tried to keep his voice from cracking, "No, Evey, I'm just happy to see you. I missed you while I was gone."

She looked up at him with eyes as wide as the world, swirling with hazel-brown and green flecks. Sometimes the light made her eyes sparkle with gold. Sometimes the shadow made her eyes look like an entire forest. She reached up and touched his face with her fat, childish fingers.

"You miss me a lot."

It never ceased to astound him how much poise and strength she had even as a young child. Her mere presence made him feel better. He took her hand in his.

"Don't ever change, Evey."

"Seems like she knows more than what meets the eye... Mr. Carlton."

Phil turned his head towards the door at the familiar voice. "Director?"

Nick stood behind him in the doorway, leaning against the frame, "I just stopped by to see how you were settling. Good to see you and your cactus baby are safe."

"Thank you sir." He decided to ignore the unfortunate nickname Nick had given Evelyn.

Nick walked over to him and sat on the couch, Maria came into view and handed him a folder. It was full of information on where they were moving to. The apartment was small but located close to the New York offices and a prestigious preschool for Evelyn. A map was enclosed that showed how far they were from work and home.

"Your stuff is en route to your new apartment which should be ready for you both by tomorrow," said Nick as he put his feet up, "Our finance people also have to set up your new bank accounts and get your tax 'history' figured out. It would be a good idea to lie low for a few days."

"Thanks," he said, feeling shaky as he sunk into the couch, "I didn't expect you to come all the way up here just to help me out."

Nick almost smiled. "SHIELD is more than an organization, it's family. We take care of our own. You and your daughter will always be protected by us."

Coulson relaxed into the couch taking everything in. Maria spoke up.

"Our main operative team is also relocating to this area as we have noticed that it seems to have a higher rate of international crime and mutant activity. It seems like your role of recruiter and instructor has expanded."

Phil smiled, feeling reassured, "You didn't have to do that on my account."

Maria sat down next to the Director. Nick took a deep breath before speaking. "To be completely honest, this change has been a work in progress. The Council has made a controversial decision. They are interested in expanding recruitment to mutants. We need to bring that talent into SHIELD. It's potential which should not go to waste. Your transition just happens to fall at the right place at the right time."

"That makes a lot of sense," said Phil, setting Evelyn on the ground because his left arm started to fall asleep. She sucked her thumb as she pulled her lop-eared bunny toy over to hold. She hummed a little song to herself, clearly uninterested in the adult conversation.

Phil noticed the growing habit and began to think of ways to break it as she can't start preschool sucking on her thumb. He focused his attention back on Nick, "I really don't understand how this is any sort of controversy."

"Congress controls our purse strings," noted Maria, "So we are at a mercy to their whims if we are going to continue operation. Right now, it's not particularly favorable to mutants."

"But if they take us out financially, then who is going to keep trouble from landing on their doorstep!"

Nick threw his hands up, "Exactly! But it's all about ideology for these motherf-"

"Nick," warned Maria, jerking her thumb over to where Evelyn was sitting.

"For these people," he corrected looking at the girl and then back to Phil, "Rather than actually working toward a solution, they prefer to strangle anyone who gets in their way. I hope their 'moral high ground' offers them a good view of the chaos. Because other than that, it's not good for much."

Phil bit his lip. He hated politics. "So the point is the Council is taking a gamble. And it better pay off."

"It _will_ pay off," corrected Nick, "It got my best man on it."

Phil chuckled, "When do I start?"

Nick and Maria exchanged a glance. A downright impish expression crossed her face before it settled back to normal. Nick smirked, "We decided that it is better to ask for forgiveness than permission. So, you are going to start on Monday while we continue to lobby support. We've started making contact with a group called the Friends of Mutants Association. They're based out of Portland. They try to connect mutant youth to positive career paths, among other things. Anita Dan is your contact and she will help you get started. There is a big event coming up in a few months. I'll try to snag an invite so you can have a face-to-face meeting."

Nick handed him a business card. Forest green lettering on ivory cardstock spelled out her name and position in the organization. Phil tucked it into his pocket for later. Evelyn skipped up to his chair and rested her head against the armrest.

"Papa…"

"What's up?" he ruffled her hair so it stuck straight up.

"I'm bored. You're doing a lot of grown-up talk," she complained, bouncing on her heels.

Maria held a hand over her mouth to hold in a laugh but the sparkle in her dark eyes betrayed her amusement. "There's a playground about a block down."

Evelyn's eyes widened, "Can we go to the playground?"

Phil considered it, glancing over at Nick to see if there was anything he needed to do before. Nick shrugged a shoulder. "Sure. Let's go get your coat."

"Yay!" she laughed, skipping back off to the bedroom to grab her things.

Nick and Maria stood. Phil noticed the director buttoning up his long, dark jacket. "You're not staying?"

"Thought about it," said Maria, "But then the stock market had to go and crash yesterday. So now we have to keep an eye on things while the finance people sort through the mess. Maybe nothing will happen. But we have to keep an eye open just in case."

"You didn't have to come all the way up here to help me in the middle of a global market crisis," muttered Phil sheepishly, "I mean, my problems aren't nearly as bad as… the stock market crashing."

"Like I said before," said Nick, "We support each other, no matter what. We can't claim to be there when all else fails and the last line of defense of humanity if we don't fulfill that role among ourselves. It starts at home."

Phil mulled over those words as he took Evelyn to the park. It was a small metal structure wedged between buildings with a few trees providing cover. The storm clouds brewed overhead, threatening to unleash a storm. Ignoring the gray skies, she charged through puddles in her little yellow rain boots, racing through the autumn leaves, and leaping onto the metal structure. Phil sat back under a tree as it dropped bright red leaves around him. Evelyn raced up the steps, ignoring the pooling rain. She slid down the blue plastic slide and landed squarely in a puddle. She giggled and raced back around again. The slides and the monkey bars kept her entertained for nearly an hour. Finally, she turned back to Phil.

"Papa!"

"What is it Evey?"

She climbed onto the ledge, kicking her feet so she could slide onto the platform easily. Her upper body strength was pretty impressive.

"Will you play?"

Phil chuckled, "I'm a bit too big, Evelyn. But I can push you on the swings."

Her face paled a bit as she stood and brushed the dirt off her knees, "I don't like the swings."

"Why's that?" he asked, resting his hands against the platform.

"I don't like falling."

Phil paused, pondering this as she had just finished on the monkey bars and had been fine. Evelyn went off to the slide so she can slip down once again. The rain started to pick up again. Large drops plummeted from the sky, dripping over the city. Phil glanced up, trying to gauge the ferocity of the storm.

"Evey, I think we need to start heading home. It's almost lunch."

"Do I have to?" she whined, sitting on the edge of the slide, "I'm not done playing."

"You can go down the slide one more time. Then we need to get back to the hotel and get you dried off."

She raced around to the ladder but didn't hurry her ascent. She was taking her sweet time, making it last. Amused, Phil knelt at the end of the slide to wait for Evelyn so he could scoop her up before she ran away. She settled at the top of the slide, clinging to the sides.

"Are you ready to catch me?"

"I'm right here," he said, opening his arms for her.

Evelyn pushed with her legs and raced down the slide. Everything ran into a bit of a blur for Phil. She was sliding down to him one moment and the next moment, he felt a jolt shoot up his arm. A blot of blue static shot between Evelyn's outstretched hand and his. Evelyn collided with him, knocking him off balance. He fell back onto his back, staring up at the descending raindrops.

"Papa!" She shrieked.

"I'm fine," he chuckled, "No problem. I'm not hurt."

"I'm sorry," she muttered, tears appearing in her eyes. She started to bawl. Phil quickly sat up, even though his backside smarted. Evelyn fell into his arms, still weeping.

"Evelyn, you didn't do anything wrong. It was an accident," he reassured her, stroking her hair so that she started to calm down. "It's okay. Let's get you home and clean you up."

He stood, taking her hand in his. She still had tears coming down her cheeks but the frequency decreased. She held him tightly, enough so that his hand ached from her grip. But he held on.

They didn't talk about it for the rest of the day. Phil didn't want to put her in distress, especially when she was settling down. The afternoon went by fast as he attempted to dry her off when they arrived back at the hotel but she was too excited about the idea of swimming. After lunch and a quick nap, Phil attempted to teach her how to swim in the indoor pool, but she was more interested in blowing bubbles and splashing him gleefully. She seemed to settle into bed at the end of the day. Phil didn't even get to finish their story book due to her unusual exhaustion.

If only he could sleep as soundly as she did. His brain spun with thoughts on the day and emotions the instant he tried to relax. Thoughts, questions, fears, and nightmares crawled out of the corners, reaching out their slimy tentacles. He turned the TV on, not because he cared about the late night programming but because the mindless noise helped keep his mind busy. Otherwise, he could still feel the tight gas mask against his face. The overwhelming aroma of rot and grime seeped from his pores. No matter how hard he scrubbed, he could not get the dirt off of his body. The smell followed him just over his shoulder, claws digging into his skin. Whenever he closed his eyes, the empty sapphire eyes glared at him. The image of suffocation bruising and blood remained burned into the back of his mind.

He felt sick. Bile tickled the back of his throat. The toilet bowl loomed before him but he couldn't recall exactly how it got there. As sick as he felt, he couldn't bring himself to throw up. His legs felt tense, muscles twitching. Muscles in his torso tightened, yanking back on his lungs so he couldn't breathe. He ran a hand through his damp hair. Sweat pooled in the hollows of his back. He brought his knees to his forehead, curling into a ball on the bathroom floor until he could regain his breathing. Breaths in and out became longer and more focused. He managed to drag himself to the couch and lose himself in the static from the TV, hovering between frequencies. At long last, he would drift off to sleep, but only when the sense of exhaustion overwhelmed him.

Phil found himself crawling through dirt but it turned to a soupy mess of entrails under his hands. Blood coated his arms and his belly as he dragged himself along to some unknown destination. The air smelled poisoned, metallic, hot. Something clung to his ankle, yanking him back into the darkness. Everything shifted in a blur. A dead face stared up at him, blood seeping from young purpled lips. Blood and vomit stained red braids. Hazel-brown eyes stared off at nothing, the dead expression glaring at him. He fell back, into darkness. Screams echoed around him, piercing his ears.

Pain shot across his chest the instant before he awoke. He looked around the hotel room, his small firearm ready to go in his hand. Everything seemed in place as he put it back on his night stand, but his stomach turned in knots, heart beating like he just ran a marathon. He rested his head in his hands. The past few nights had been like this. It wasn't slowing down. To reassure himself, he went and checked on Evelyn. She slept soundly in the other room, burrowed in her blankets, blissfully unaware of his distress. Making a mental note to speak with someone at SHIELD about sleeping pills, he attempted to go back to sleep. Results were mixed.

Around five in the morning, he gave up entirely on trying to sleep and began packing and organizing everything that would be needed for their relocation. Breakfast was dropped off by room service an hour and a half later. The rich aroma of pancakes and bacon filled the suite.

He was surprised that his toddler wasn't up. He tip toed into her room while he munched on some strawberries and smiled. She was cuddled up to her blanket, her back was to him and her tiny fists clutching the silky fabric. Climbing onto the bed, he ruffled her hair and attempted to wake her up. She rolled over and buried her head between the pile of pillows and his leg, murmuring something sleepily. It was clear she wanted to snuggle and not wake up. Kissing her head, he started planting raspberries on her forehead, the sensation causing her to scream with delight, giggle and squirm out of his reach. Laughing, he let go of his daughter. She smiled at him still giggling, her hair stuck up in several directions. Eventually she caught the scent of breakfast and hurried to begin the day.

After breakfast, Phil had Evelyn help him pack some of their bags. He had been avoiding discussing his trip to the Cleaners with his daughter. It was difficult to put the words together, explain it in a way she could understand.

"Honey," he began nervously, "We need to talk about something important."

She stopped putting her Captain America books into his old green backpack and looked up at him. Curiosity shimmered in her eyes.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Its about our move. There are some important things I need to tell you about," he took a deep breath before continuing, "You can't tell anyone your name is Coulson. It's a secret."

"Why?"

Phil pulled Evelyn close so she was sitting on his knee and he could look at her in the eyes. The little girl had such big, brown eyes that they appeared to swallow everything up. He hugged her around the shoulders and rocked her back and forth.

"You know that my job is that I help find bad guys and make sure that they don't do bad things to people, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, there are some bad guys that don't want to stop doing bad things."

"Why?"

"Lots of reasons, sweetie," said Phil quietly, "It's hard to explain right now. You will understand better when you are older."

Evelyn frowned when she heard that. She didn't like being told she was too young to understand something. In some ways, she didn't know her own limits. It worried Phil just a little bit. He sighed and tried to continue.

"It's not good that people hurt others but unfortunately, it is the way things are. That's why we need people like Maria and Bobbi and Nick and the other agents. They prevent these bad people from hurting others. But because the bad guys don't want to stop doing bad things, they think that hurting people like SHIELD agents will make it so that they can keep doing bad things. So, we have new names that we have to use so that the bad guys can't find us. Does that make sense?"

"I guess it does," nodded Evelyn, "So... I can't tell anyone that my name is Coulson?"

"That is correct," said Phil, "Your new name is Evelyn Carlton. That is the name you have to tell other people."

"Okay," she said very quietly, resting her head against his shoulder. Phil hugged her close. Evelyn would be hidden. Nobody would find her. That would let him sleep better at night.

"You know that Captain America had a secret name too?"

"He did?"

"Yeah," said Phil, "If you promise never to tell anyone, I'll tell you."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, "How do you know Captain America's secret name?"

"Well, Howard Stark, the man who started SHIELD knew Captain America many years ago," said Phil, "They were friends. Captain America is sort of the reason SHIELD is around today. So, his name was in some of our very secret files."

"Wow..." her wide eyes were open, reverent at the idea of thousands of secrets hidden away. Phil smiled a bit. That was much of the same reason that made him want to join SHIELD. He wanted answers to questions.

"Captain America was a man named Steve Rogers. He fought during World War Two. But nobody knows that except for you, and me... and some people at SHIELD."

"I can keep a secret."

"You keep his name secret, dear, and you keep your name secret," said Phil, "And everything will be okay. Alright?"

"Okay."

A few moments passed in silence as they packed until, "Are we going to see the big lady?"

"The big lady?" asked Phil as he pulled her clothes from the box and stacked them neatly, "What big lady?"

Evelyn held her hand up in the air, "The big lady with the crown."

"Oh, the Statue of Liberty," said Phil, putting a hand on his forehead, "Yes, she is in New York."

"Can we see her?"

"Sure," smiled Phil as he zipped up their suitcase. "We can go see the statue of liberty sometime."

"I'm excited," she grinned, skipping off to gather up some more things, "I get to see the big lady!"


	8. Pt 1 Ch 8: Tea & Cushions

"Happy Birthday, honey," said Phil, handing over the box to her. It was fairly small but well-wrapped, covered in purple paper with pink and yellow flowers and topped with a blue and gold bow. Evelyn took the gift on her lap and started pulling off large scraps of paper until she was down to the plain white box. She popped open the lid easily and squeaked upon seeing the contents. She reverently reached in and pulled out a plush doll version of Evelyn's favorite hero: Captain America.

The doll had glassy eyes made out of two dark blue resin buttons and a smile made of red thread. The costume was a perfect replica, right down to the feathery wings embroidered on either side of the helmeted head. He even had little boots made out of sleek, leathery material.

"Papa!" she smiled, her left bottom tooth missing, "My own Captain America!"

"I'm glad you like it, honey," smiled Phil as he ruffled her fluffy auburn hair. She giggled, hugging the doll closely.

"Let me get a photo of you," said Phil as he raised his Polaroid camera, "I'd like this for the album."

She sat on the edge of the sofa, pushing the boxes and wrapping paper off to the side so it would be out of the photo. She cradled Cap closely, as though he was made from glass and not fluff and fabric. He was singled out as the favorite among her birthday presents.

"Smile!" said Phil. She grinned from ear to ear, revealing a mouth full of half-grown in teeth. Her arms wrapped around Cap, pulling him close. The camera clicked and the flash went off. As Phil shook the Polaroid and scribbled "1988 4th birthday" to date the picture, Evelyn yawned widely.

"Are you tired?"

"Yeah," admitted Evelyn, "But… I want cake."

"It is chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting," smiled Phil, taking her hand as they walked to the kitchen, "Your favorite."

"Dad, this is a great birthday."

"Oh," smiled Phil, feeling his heart well up in joy and pride as he pulled the pink cake box from the fridge, "I'm glad you had a good birthday."

"Next year, I'll be five."

"Yes, you will," Phil lifted the cake out of the box and onto the table. A ring of lacy frosting adorned the sides, like stylized rose buds. In the middle, in purple frosting, it said "Happy 4th birthday, Evelyn!" Phil poked four candle around the edge, lighting them so the kitchen was bathed in flickering light.

"And then I'll get to go to kindergarten."

"Yup, that is true."

"I'm excited."

"I'm glad. Time to blow out your candles." He grabbed the cake and held it out in front of her.

Evelyn inhaled deeply, exaggerating the motion. All the candles flickered and then went out. Phil started to cut the cake and plate it up.

"So, you're excited for kindergarten but not preschool?" he teased. Classes would start in a couple of weeks.

"Um…"

Phil blinked once, concerned by her lack of response, "What is it sweetie?"

"What...what if they don't like me?"

"Your classmates?"

"Yeah, can I stay with Maria or Bobbi instead?"

Phil sighed and scooted the cake over and lifted her up and sat her on the kitchen counter so that they were eye to eye.

"Why do you not think they will like you? The kids you play with at church like you."

"But you have to be nice to people in church!"

Phil covered his mouth to hide the smile on his face. Composing himself, he looked back up at her. "You'll be fine, Evey. There's nothing to worry about."

She picked up her fork and started to pick at her cake, "If you say so."

"I know so," he insisted, gathering the wrapping paper from her gifts, "Trust me."

Evelyn gave him a look but didn't say anything else. Phil sliced himself a piece of cake and sidled next to her. He dabbed peanut butter frosting on her nose, making her giggle. After finishing their slices of cake, they washed the dishes and got Evelyn ready for bed.

Phil pulled back the covers so Evelyn could crawl into her bed before he tucked her in for the night. She yawned as he pulled the covers up to her chin. He picked up the Captain America doll from the pillows and tucked him into the bed next to her.

"I love you, Papa," she muttered sleepily.

"I love you too, birthday girl," he replied, kissing her forehead, "I'll see you in the morning."

He flicked off the main lights but he could see from the crack of light from the door that she pulled the doll closer so Cap rested right under her little chin. She yawned again and Phil slipped out the door. Her little eyes fluttered shut as she slipped into dreams.

Phil felt bad that he had to wake her early in the morning, but they needed to run errands. She needed a backpack for preschool and he completely forgot until he received the supply letter from the school. He put her in her booster seat in the car and fastened it tightly across her chest. They started to drive when Evelyn asked a question which stopped traffic.

"Papa, is Maria my mommy?"

Phil slammed on the brakes of his car, pulling it off to the side as fast as possible before he caused a massive car crash. He spun around in his seat so he could look at Evelyn. She seemed unaware of the fact that she nearly caused a wreck.

"Honey? Why do you ask?"

"Lots of other kids have mommies. I don't think I have a mommy, unless Maria is my mommy."

Phil stammered, "Do you ….want a mommy?"

Evelyn didn't say anything for a long moment as she mulled it over, "I don't know. What do mommies do?"

Phil stammered over a good response to that question. The obvious answer was not something that should be explained to a child. An alternative explanation to what mommies did was actually somewhat hard to come up with.

"Uh, mommies... they... uh, they bake cookies and sew lost buttons back onto your clothes and mend things, and... do girl things with you..."

"Girl things? What are girl things?" Evelyn asked, her little head quirking to the side in confusion.

"I don't know. I'm not a girl," admitted Phil looking at her through the rearview mirror.

"Where do you go to get a mommy?"

"Honey," said Phil, turning farther in his seat to look at her properly, "You do have a mommy out there somewhere. She's just not here."

She looked down at her little hands while squeezing her Captain America doll tightly against her chest, "Why did she go away? Did do something wrong?"

"No," insisted Phil, reaching back to grab her hand, "No. You haven't done anything. I don't know why your mommy isn't here, but it isn't that."

"Can I go look for her?"

Phil bit the inside of his lip, "I'm not sure where to start looking."

"Will you tell me if you find her? I want to meet her!"

"I will," promised Phil, "Someday we will find her."

After dropping Evelyn off at the daycare, Phil beelined it to work so he could find Maria. She sat in the conference room with a stack of paperwork in front of her. Greetings fell by the wayside. Phil dumped all of his anxieties onto her lap.

"How, in the name of all that is holy, do you tell a four-year-old that she's adopted? How will even start to explain that… I'm not her dad? My parenting books say nothing about this,"

Maria didn't even look up. "Good morning to you too. I'm guessing she asked questions about her biological parents on her birthday?"

"No this morning, specifically about her mother."

He looked at his partner as she viewed the morning's reports. Perhaps Maria wouldn't mind being something of a stand-in mother. Evelyn needed someone to be a maternal figure. She needed some kind of mom. When he suggested it, he did not receive the response he expected.

"No," Maria insisted, "I'm not going to be Evelyn's mom."

"She needs _someone_."

"I can't be it," said Maria, "I'm hardly maternal material."

"It's not about being maternal," insisted Phil, "I just need someone to do… mom things. You know, girl time and help with "the talk" and stuff like that."

"Phil, I am not her real mother. I am not going to lie to her and pretend to be her mother."

"I'm not asking for you to be her mother. I'm just asking you to," he cut himself off, unsure of what he was really asking. He stared down at the table between them for a long moment before speaking up again."So, what am I supposed to do? How can I explain to Evelyn that she has no mom and nobody to take the place?"

"You put it that way, it sounds horrible," snapped Maria, "Look, Phil. Everyone who has ever been adopted has wondered where their birth parents came from. This is normal. It doesn't mean you have to drop everything and try to find a solution for it right now. These things take time."

"I don't think it is so much about finding her birth mom as it is just having a mom around," countered Phil, "I don't know if I can do everything all by myself. She's going to need a mom to explain the birds and the bees and how to put on a bra and stuff that I really don't want to have to explain."

"Nobody can do everything by themselves. If you need help with things, Phil, you know any of us will help. However, I'm not her mom. I have no authority to call myself her mom. I'll help. But I'm not going to be her mother."

"She asked if you were her mom."

Maria's mouth fell open in shock, " _No._ Really?"

"Yeah," Phil held in a laugh, "I couldn't believe it. Almost drove the car into oncoming traffic."

Her face erupted in a bright red blush, dark eyes opened in shock. Phil had never seen her thrown this far off balance in her life. The picture of poise was erased from her face as she stammered for a response.

"W-what did you tell her?"

"Uh," Phil tried to recall back to the conversation, "I don't remember. I was more concerned about what got the idea in her head in the first place."

"Don't encourage her," insisted Maria, panic settled on her brow, "I am begging you."

"Hey, take it easy. I'll correct her," he chuckled nervously, "She's not going to go walking up to you saying 'Mama.'"

Phil mulled over his thoughts for the rest of the day. Evelyn wanted to play as soon as he got home. Feeling guilty for being busy with work, he agreed to sit through a tea party.

She wore a purple princess dress and took the spot at the head of the table. Actually the table was an overturned plastic crate with a blanket serving as the tablecloth. Little white plastic teacups and the painted teapot were scattered around the table. All sorts of friends encircled the table. Her pink plush teddy bear and floppy-eared rabbit took the side spots. Directly across from her was the plush Captain America doll, complete with a shield made from the lid from an oatmeal can and decorated with a sloppy four-year-old painting of the stars and stripes.

"Papa! Come sit next to Cap!"

Phil sat cross-legged between Cap and the bunny, his legs cramped at the miniature proportions of the tea party. He started to reach toward one of the cups.

"That's not your cup. That's Bunny's. Yours is this one," she said, pushing the new cup toward him before dropping her voice down to a conspiratorial whisper, "Bunny drinks her tea with too much sugar."

"Oh," said Phil, "I see."

"Do you want cream or sugar, Papa?"

"I'm fine, dear," said Phil, "How does Cap like his tea?"

"He likes it with some sugar," said Evelyn matter-of-factly, "But not as much as Bunny. He likes just a little teeny, tiny bit of cream."

Phil pretended to sip his tea. She bustled about and continued to top off the tea with the participants of the party. She picked up Cap and started to walk out of the room.

"Evelyn, where are you going?"

"Cap wants cookies," said Evelyn turning towards him with wide eyes, "I'm going to go and get him Fig Newtons."

"Does Cap want cookies or do _you_ want cookies?"

Her wide Bambi-like eyes almost made him cave in and let her have the cookies anyway. Fig Newtons weren't all that bad for her either… they were mostly fruit anyway. But it was the principle of the thing.

"Honey… no cookies until after dinner."

"Papa…"

"No is no."

"Not even for Cap?"

"Not even for Cap."

She huffed but then sat back down and held Cap out in front of her, "Cap, we have to eat imaginary cookies."

After consulting with the doll for a long moment, she turned leaned back around to look at Phil, "Cap isn't happy he has to eat imaginary cookies."

Phil chuckled as she pouted, "Cap is just going to have to deal with it."

They sat at the makeshift table, playing, until Phil had to make dinner. Evelyn hung around his knees as he stirred the pot of beef stew on the stove. The warm aroma of cooked meat wafted through the air. He made a double batch so there would be plenty of extras for tomorrow.

"Evey, I have a meeting I have to go to on Saturday," he said as they ate, "So Maria will be by to watch you for a few hours."

"Where are you going?" she asked as she attempted to fit an extra large bite of steak and potatoes in her small mouth. He tried not to laugh as well when he attempted to wipe off the extra contents that ended up on her face. She twitched away from his napkin, fussing and annoyed.

"I have a fancy dinner to go to," said Phil, "And some important people will be there who I need to meet. It's not too far away. If you need me, I'll be a phone call away."

He glanced at the fancy invite on the table. It was actually a conference dinner of mutant activists which he needed to attend as research for mutant recruitment. Professor Charles Xavier was the keynote speaker, the forefront and face of the mutant rights movement. He also happened to hear his contact for recruitment, Anita, had turned in an RSVP and he would have a chance to meet her face-to-face. Out of everything, he was most nervous about meeting her. Friday couldn't arrive soon enough.

But he still had a full week to get through. Evelyn settled into her school easily and seemed to get along with the other kids. The preschool was a nice one, not just because of the proximity to home and the credentials of the teachers. But, Phil managed to find a small coffee shop across the street which didn't just have a perfect view of the area, but a pretty view inside as well. Phil found himself sitting at the counter day after day for a glimpse of the owner.

Phil thought she was pretty. She had golden hair curling softly over her shoulders in big, glamorous curls. She had wide topaz eyes set in a heart shaped face. A flick of kohl eyeliner adorned the corners of her eyes, blocking out laugh lines. Slim, slinky, with long legs and cute little magenta kitten heels. She almost looked like Irene Dunne or another actress from that golden age of Hollywood. She walked like she was performing a ballet. Dressed in a flowered apron, she was like something out of an old magazine or postcard.

"Here is your vanilla latte, Mr. Carlton," she said, setting a large blue porcelain cup in front of him, "Just the way you like it."

"Thank you, Jennifer," said Phil, his heart fluttering softly in his chest and palms sweating so intensely he had to discreetly wipe them off on his jeans, "You can call me Phil if you want to."

"Alright, Phil."

She wiped her hands on her flowered apron. Her smile was intoxicating. With a nervous chuckle, she hurried back to the display case, "I'll get your coffee cake."

"Thank you," said Phil.

She hurried over to the little display case and pulled open the door. There were a number of varieties of coffee cake in there as well as muffins and danishes. All of them were crafted lovingly by the hands of the master baker in the shop. Perhaps it was Jennifer who made the baked items. He didn't know. It occurred to him that he should ask.

She came back around with the little plate with the cake and a smile. Her lips were tinted the color of strawberries and her cheeks like the dusting of dawn over the desert. The nervous feeling Phil harbored before was pushed into overdrive now.

"Here you go," she smiled, putting the dish in front of him, "Enjoy."

"I will. You do such a lovely job." God, he was out of practice at this.

"Oh," she blushed, Phil beamed, "Thank you."

"This is a great little spot," he said, "How long have you been working here?"

"Oh, pretty much as long as it's been open. I own the shop," she said, "And the bookstore next door. It was my mum's and she left it for me and my sisters when she passed away. Someday, I'll pass this on to my own daughter."

"It's a really great place," said Phil, ignoring the fact that his daughter's preschool was just up the road so convenience played a big factor in him choosing this location to set up during the afternoons.

"Thank you."

Phil smiled, "So, how old is your daughter?"

"Well, I don't have a daughter yet," she admitted, "But someday."

Phil smiled a bit. So, she was single. That was good. And she liked kids. That was also good. He could ask her out and it wouldn't be awkward or misconstrued as something it wasn't. That is, if he could ever get to a point where he felt good asking her out. Right now, he felt twitchy and nervous. His palms were sweating, heart pounding, knees trembling with nervousness. He silently berated himself for acting like a teenager with a crush.

"Do you... want to meet for dinner sometime?" asked Phil, surprising himself with his own boldness.

"S-sure," she stammered, a blush blossoming on her cheeks, "I'd love to."

"Great!" smiled Phil, feeling his heart thud against his chest at maximum speed, "Is Wednesday good for you?"

"Sounds lovely!"

"I'll call you so we can work out details, is that okay?"

"Sure, sure," she said, pulling a pen out and scrawling her number on a napkin, "Call me and we can, uh, arrange something."

"Great," smiled Phil, holding the napkin tenderly, as though it was woven from the absolute finest silk from China rather than just regular paper. He didn't even realize that he had said 'great' three or four times in a row. His vocabulary was becoming horribly limited around the beautiful lady.

Phil felt dazed, happy, as he walked across the road to pick up Evelyn. He could have turned cartwheels he was so excited for his date. The smile wouldn't leave his face. Everything was sunshine and rainbows. Nothing else mattered. He scooped up Evelyn and hugged her. She looked at him quizzically.

"Are you okay?"

Phil tried to contain his smile a bit, but his cheeks hurt, "I'm absolutely great, Evey. Absolutely great."

He was grateful she didn't press. It would be awkward to try to explain dating to her. The "birds and the bees" speech would come eventually. Someday she would scare the hell out of him by being interested in boys. And he would have no choice but to scare the hell out of those boys in return, for the sake of his daughter's dignity. For now, she was a carefree girl who didn't need to know about such things. She skipped along at his knees as they walked home from preschool. She leapt the stairs two at a time until she stumbled about halfway up.

"Whoops,' Phil caught her shoulders so she didn't tumble down the stairs, "Careful, Evey. Don't be reckless."

"Daaaad."

"Evey," he countered, "Indulge your crazy father and be careful."

"Fine!" she ran ahead when he unlocked the doors. He turned when he heard footsteps running upstairs behind him. Maria grinned as she came into view with big grocery bags in hand.

"I feel like your maid, Coulson," she smirked playfully, handing the bag off to him, "Doing your grocery run for you."

"Carlton," he corrected softly.

"Oh whatever," she rolled her eyes, "You're the only one who uses that name. It's the worst kept secret in SHIELD."

"Still have to use it when around civilians," he said, "Come on in. I could use a hand."

They started making dinner together in the small kitchen, bumping into each other as they put together their component dishes. Maria took over the coleslaw while Phil began to brown the meat to start sloppy joes. Maria rummaged through the vegetable crisper, looking for something.

"Are you out of carrots?"

"Uh," Phil tried to remember, "No, there should be some in there. I keep them as snacks for Evelyn. Try the top drawer."

Maria shot him a look as she pulled out a container from the cheese drawer, "Someday, I am going to organize your fridge in a way that makes sense."

"Please don't. I would never be able to find anything."

"I'll do it on Wednesday when I get off work. I'll bring Fury's label maker."

"I would help," he said with a smile, "If only to get my hands on that label maker. But I have a date."

"A date?"

"Yup!"

"With who? Anyone I know?"

"You know the Iris Cafe? Across from Evey's preschool?"

"Yeah, I live right above it."

Phil blinked, "Really? How long have you lived there?"

"Since Fury relocated the core strike force up to New York," she explained, "To answer the question I know you are thinking, I didn't pick it out. However, I think Fury did it on purpose to make sure someone was nearby to keep an eye on the cactus baby."

Phil slouched, "Not you too!"

"Oh get over it! Everyone has their stupid SHIELD nicknames they have to deal with!" She waved him away. Phil opened his mouth to comment but Maria interrupted him, "What about the date?"

"Uh, the owner of the Cafe, Jennifer."

"Really?" Maria began shredding the carrot into ribbons, "How did you score that?"

"I asked nicely," said Phil, "I've been going over to the cafe for a few weeks while waiting for Evelyn to get out of school. We enjoyed our time together. I thought it was worth a shot and apparently she did too."

Maria looked like she wanted to say something but she was cut off by the sound of loud crying. Phil felt panic sink into his chest when he looked up and saw Evelyn sobbing as she walked in, holding Cap to her chest.

"Papa," she sniffled, "I… I got Cap stuck in the zipper and... he… he ripped."

"Oh no," muttered Phil, his eyes glancing over at the ground pork cooking on the stove. He couldn't leave it unattended for too long. "Uh, Maria?"

"Fine," said Maria, putting down the box grater, "Come on, dear, I'll fix him."

Evelyn sat next to Maria on the couch, cradling Cap lovingly between her hands. She still had tears pouring down her face but her sobs stopped when she watched the seams fuse back together at Maria's command. Phil chuckled at the suture kit that Maria kept in her purse but was silenced with a single glance.

"Papa said mommies help sew things," said Evelyn cautiously. Phil bit his lip, listening for Maria's response.

"I'm not your Mom, dear," said Maria carefully, pulling the thread tight. She was creating a suture, not ideal for sewing up a child's toy but that was the only stitch she knew, "But, I'm going to do all I can to help your Daddy. "

"So... you're _kinda_ like a mommy?"

Maria sighed, rolling her eyes a bit, "Sure, I'm sort of like a mommy."

"Okay," said Evelyn, looking tearfully over at her doll, "I wish you were my mommy."

Maria knotted the thread and pulled it through the stitches so it would stay tight against the fabric. She sighed again, defeat creeping across her face, "I'll tell you what. You can call me Aunt Maria. I'm here to help, but I'm not your mom."

Evelyn smiled even though her eyes were still moist, "I like that."

Maria pulled out the scissors and trimmed the loose thread. The result was a blue smear of thread across the top of the doll but it was better than loose stuffing falling out of the top of his head. Maria handed the doll back and Evelyn held it close, wiping her eyes dry with her free hand.

"Thank you, Auntie" said Evelyn, pressing the doll so close to her chest that it looked like a stranglehold.

Somehow, Maria figured she wasn't just talking about mending her toy. Phil whispered a quick thanks but Maria waved him away. She sighed. She had not signed up for this thing of whatever she and Phil had. It was largely out of pity, although she preferred to call it sympathy so she felt less guilty. Being a single parent was never easy and Phil deserved a chance to take a deep breath now and then.


	9. Pt 1 Ch 9: Dating Game

"How are you doing?" asked Bobbi, adjusting his tie for him.

"Nervous as hell," admitted Phil, "It has been a long time since I've been on an actual date."

"Oh, how long? Or are you not one to kiss and tell?"

Phil looked indignant, "Bobbi!"

"I'm kidding," she grinned, "You need to relax. Women can smell fear. We're like wild animals."

She made little cat noises and curled her fingers into claws. Phil chuckled, a smile stuck on his face as he adjusted the sleeves of his suit. She picked out navy blue for him, a departure from his usual black suit. She said it was more approachable. He didn't need to look like an accountant when he was on a date. The blue and green geometric print tie was from Evelyn last Father's Day. He knew Maria was probably the one who picked it out but it was always the thought that counts.

"You can dive face first into a national disaster without blinking but for something as simple as a dinner date, you get nervous? Phil, your priorities are whacked."

"I'm not completely new to the dating scene. I chased a bit of tail back in the day," he explained with a smile.

"So long ago that 'chasing tail' was the term you used for it," noted Bobbi with a smirk.

"That's not the only thing that has changed between now and then. I'm in it for something with a bit more substance now. And, when you have a lot riding on the date, it becomes more stressful. And I really want this one to work out okay."

Bobbi's sass abated when she saw the pure sincerity on his face, eyes sparkling with hope and a nervous smile across his face. Nervous energy coursed through his veins. His eyes flicked anxiously to the clock to his watch and back to the clock as though my sheer force of will he could speed up time.

Evelyn lingered around her father's knees. After years of seeing him in a suite, she tugged on his pant leg to get his attention. "Papa, where are you going?"

Bobbi raised an inquiring eyebrow as Phil stumbled to attach words into a coherent line of sentences. He eventually lowered himself to one knee so he could look her in the eyes.

"I'm meeting a lady for dinner," he said very calmly and seriously.

"Like a friend?"

"Yes," he smiled, "a lady friend."

"Like Maria?"

"Oh my God," Bobbi snickered but stifled it in her fist. She swallowed her laughter and tried to look serious while Phil acted like a parent.

"Sort of," said Phil, choosing not to pay attention to Bobbi's outburst. "Her name is Jennifer and I really like her. So I am going to spend a little time with her. I'll be back in time to read you a bedtime story. But you need to be good for Bobbi, okay?"

"Yeah," she promised, "Can I meet your lady friend?"

Phil swallowed nervously. "Maybe. We'll see."

"When you say that, it means 'no,'" she pouted, crossing her arms.

Bobbi, again, had to stifle her giggles. Phil even found himself smiling. "I'm not saying no, I'm saying maybe. It's different."

"Whatever, Papa," sighed Evelyn. She ran to the living room to play with her toys, pigtails flailing behind her.

Bobbi raised an eyebrow, "She's getting to be a sassy kid. You better watch out when she gets to be a teenager."

"Yeah, we're not going to let it get that far," insisted Phil, grabbing his jacket, "So, do I look alright? Nothing too embarrassing? Nothing between my teeth?"

Bobbi grinned, "I think that's about as good as it is going to get."

"I'm leaving," announced Phil towards the living room, skipping out before there were any more digs at his ego.

Her long golden hair was slightly teased at the top so her bangs lingered in front of her eyes like lacy curtains in a window. Her wrap dress of cream calico clung in all the right places and billowed enough to leave everything to the imagination. A faint floral damask print flit in and out of sight in the shadows and light as she moved.

"You look nice," he said when they arrived at the small restaurant, hidden between two older brick buildings. If it hadn't been pointed out to him, he would have walked right past it and never ventured forth into the narrow shop. The warm goldenrod walls were decorated with frescoes of flowers and pastoral scenes. He ordered pasta and wine but barely paid any attention to the menu. The words wove in and out of focus. Somehow he ended up ordering red wine, like he actually knew what he was doing. He hoped to calm his nerves before the food arrived or else he may not have completely lost his appetite in favor of nervousness.

His heart still had a hard time beating at a comfortable rate. It twitched nervously between his ribs. Sometimes he was acute aware of his own heartbeat, breathing, even the inner workings of his digestion. Other times, it seemed as though he was one with the air in the room and nothing mattered but lingering in that carefree moment.

"You know, you've never told me where you work," she noted. It was the time of settling into pleasantries to fill the void between them in hopes there might be a bridge between the gap. She sipped her water so a faint apricot-colored lipstick stain adorned the edge of the glass.

"Security," he said, falling back on the well rehearsed lie. He felt bad about being untruthful, but he feared she would not take well to the truth. Furthermore, Fury would have a fatal heart attack if he knew Phil was speaking so flagrantly on the subject.

"Like a bodyguard or something?"

"Yeah. Kinda like that. It's a private firm."

"Huh," she made a little curious sound, "Is it dangerous?"

"Can be," muttered Phil. His mind flashed back to green gas and blue eyes but he swallowed the memories with sip of cabaret. "Not so much anymore. I'll say this, the job is never boring."

"I'm sure," she chuckled.

He was eager to change the subject. "What about your job? Did you always want to own the bookstore?"

"Yeah. I started working there when I was about seven. My mother would give me odd jobs such as stocking shelves. I usually ended up reading the books as much as stocking them."

"Do you have a favorite?"

"Picking out your favorite book is like trying to pick out your favorite child. I don't know if it is possible," she paused and pondered it for a while. "I guess Little Women is my favorite. It always reminded me of me and my sisters."

"You have sisters?"

"Two older sisters," she smiled, "Abby and Sam. Abby is a children's book illustrator and Sam is a nurse. Because neither of them wanted the store, it ended up in my hands. What about you? Do you have siblings?"

"No," said Phil quickly, "No, I was an only child. My parents both died a while ago. I'm the last one of the family."

"Oh," she whispered, "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he sighed heavily, "I have my daughter so…"

"You have a daughter?" she interrupted.

Phil froze. He hadn't intended to mention Evelyn just yet. He wanted to see how serious Jennifer was about kids before he brought up that he already had one. As cold sweat pooled on his brow, he prayed this wasn't a dealbreaker. He cleared his throat and clarified, "Uh, adopted daughter. Her name is Evelyn. She's four years old now."

"Oh," said Jennifer. Phil didn't know what to make of that sound. He may have been overthinking things, but he knew, but "Oh" could mean anything from shock to disappointment. Relief flooded him when he saw her smile. "That's adorable."

"She is," smiled Phil, relaxing again. "I love her lots. She's a... little shining light in my life."

She paused for a long moment, mulling over her glass of wine. Phil pondered over what he just said. It was so stupidly poetic, it would have been laughed out of a soap opera. Finally Jen broke the silence, "I'm just really curious why you wanted to adopt a daughter. It's interesting."

"Ah, well," Phil hoped he wouldn't have to explain. He didn't have a good story, or even a half-baked lie, to tell her. "Well, at the time, it seemed like the right thing to do… uh, given where she was. And, like I said, I didn't have any family so I guess…"

His pager buzzed in his pocket. As thankful as he was to have an excuse to stop his story, he couldn't help but wonder who would be trying to contact him at this time. Peeking down, he saw Nick's familiar number flash across the screen. Frowning, Phil fought to find the button to silence the buzzer.

"Do you need to get that?"

"No. Not important," insisted Phil, "Don't worry. "

She didn't appear convinced, a thin blond eyebrow quirking in interest. Phil sighed. Every nerve in his body yanked at him, trying to get him to get in contact with Fury. If it was an emergency, he would never forgive himself for ignoring his phone. But it just wasn't fair. He flagged a server.

"Do you have a phone I can use?" His cheerful smile belied how mortified he felt. He swallowed the sinking feeling that everything was going wrong and it was beyond redemption at this point.

"Just over here," said the server, jerking his thumb to a payphone by the restrooms.

Phil fiddled with the cord of the phone as it dialed. He gripped it, pretending he was throttling Nick for being an unwelcome third wheel on his date. If this was anything short of a nuclear bomb being dropped, he was going to give Fury a piece of his mind the very next time he walked into work.

"Nick!" He exclaimed when it connected, "What the hell are you doing?"

"What the fuck is with the attitude?" Nick sounded downright irate, "We have a compromised agent in the Maggia operation and they need a place to lie low. He needs a couch to crash on. You're in the neighborhood."

"No. I actually am not. I'm in Greenwich right now."

"What the hell are you doing in Greenwich at this time of night?"

"I'm on a date, Nick!"

Nick was quiet on the other end of the line. "A what?"

"A date! When you go out with a nice lady and you buy her dinner and go to a folk concert."

"You're at a folk concert?" Judgement oozed from Nick's voice, "I am disappointed in you."

"She likes folk. I'm giving it a try. I actually need to get back to her because she is going to be concerned."

"Is your cactus baby with you?"

"On a date? No! Of course not. Bobbi is watching her."

"You are leaving _her_ with a kid?"

Phil rolled his eyes, "Look, Boss, I can't talk right now. We can debate my bad parenting choices later. Meanwhile, I am keeping my date waiting. Sorry I can't help but... in fairness, this is my night off!"

"Fine. I'll dump him with Hill!" Nick chuckled, "Good luck. Hope you get laid."

A burning red blush crept onto his face, "Nick, that's not what I'm-"

"Jesus, I was trying to be funny."

"It's not!"

Phil went to the restroom to splash water on his face in a futile attempt to remove his painfully burning blush. He hurried to straighten his tie and pull the batteries from his pager. He wasn't sure how bad things were blown, but this couldn't have made any sort of a good impression.

"Can today be over?" he groaned into the mirror before nervously returning to Jennifer. He arrived just in time for the lights to go down and the first set of the music to start. Jen appeared to be examining her fingernails. The man at the table behind them was standing behind her, leaning over her shoulder. His long, blond hair brushing against her cheek. She was sitting up straight in her chair and making a point to stare straight forward and not look at the creep.

"My date will be right back," she said intensely, her voice with an uncharacteristic edge, "You need to back off."

"Come on, Babe…"

"I'm not 'babe,'" she interjected, "Leave me alone."

Phil stepped up to the table, "You heard the lady."

"The lady is not havin' any fun," he insisted. The man smelled like alcohol, his eyes unfocused. Clearly he stumbled over from the bar and was not thinking clearly. Phil sighed, straightening his tie.

"Now you're getting personal," stated Phil. The man was standing right in front of a chair. Phil noticed that a green patterned rug ran the length of the room. He planted one foot on the tile floor and one on the rug, jerking the rug backward so the man stumbled and fell back into the chair. Phil smirked,"Have a seat. Enjoy the show. Stay away."

Fortunately, the man seemed to be terribly shocked that he ended up thrown into a chair and too inebriated to figure out exactly how it happened. Phil glared at him until he managed to slink away back into some shadowy corner of the bar. Perhaps to nurse another margarita.

"Sorry about that," whispered Phil over the twang of acoustic guitars and banjos.

"Don't worry," she said, relaxing as he took his place across from her, "Thanks for that. He was being a creep."

"I'm sorry you had to endure that," he said sincerely, "If I had known…"

"Don't worry," her smile reassured him, "It happens. Did your call go well?"

"It was my boss. Needed to ask me about a work thing."

"You said it was nothing important," she replied with a soft smile.

"It wasn't," he assured her, "routine stuff."

Phil tried to maintain composure as his ears were assaulted by the mocking laughter of the banjo. Folk was not his favorite. He never was able to find out how people could listen to more than one Bob Dylan song in a row without wanting to sew their own ears shut. Was the off key singing meant to be ironic or did people just tolerate it because they liked the rest of the music? He never received a clear answer.

Fortunately, the food was good. He could bury himself into a pile of cheese stuffed ravioli and meat sauce, relishing in the pungent tomatoes and explosion of spice and green herbs. Jen ate about half of her pasta, something creamy with clams. Her eyes, the color of robin's eggs, became lost in the music. She stared beyond the players, belong the sounds, in the direction of something which wasn't there, or perhaps something between reality and imagination.

He decided he liked her profile, the curve of her nose and the way her lips were shaped. He liked her voice: somewhere between a spinning waltz and birdsong. She had an easy presence, but that only served to make him feel more guilty about fibbing. He almost broke down and told her everything, interrupting the music to sneak in little truths. But he couldn't stop worrying about what she would say or think. His finger tapped nervously against the table as he fret.

"Are you okay?" she asked, pulled out of her trance.

"Yeah," he hesitated. This was his chance, his perfect opening. He didn't take it. "Just jitters, it's nothing."

The band began to wrap up. Phil insisted on paying the bill even though Jen made the reach for her purse. They walked out into the warm night, the almost summery sky reached down from the heavens into the city streets discussing what they admired about the city. Velvety dark fingers coiled around streetlights and buildings. Pinpricks of light shimmered orange and the neon signs glowed like an aurora against the vastness of space. Tracer beams shot across the dark windows of the car as they joined the flood in the city streets. He took her home, helping her out of the car and escorting to her front door.

She lived in a narrow townhouse wedged between other townhouses. Glowing golden windows shimmered against a dark brick facade and curling wrought iron gates. Her front door was painted spring green, with brassy fixtures.

"I had fun," smiled Phil. It wasn't a total lie. He walked her to her apartment door.

"I'd love to do this again," she returned his smile. He wondered if she meant date or the folk concert. He hoped for the former.

"How about we catch something in next time? I can introduce you to Evelyn," he said, hedging his guess.

"I can't wait to meet her."

"I'm sure she will be happy to meet you too," smiled Phil. The idea was thrilling. He has visions of a future of a home with a mother and a father and all the proper trappings of a family dancing through his head. He had the idea of a home, a life, and a real future. A smile lingered over his face as he drove home.

"How'd it go?" asked Bobbi when he got home.

"Great!" he smiled, "She's… she's fantastic. Jen is a sweetheart."

" You're so gooey. Can't wait for the wedding bells." She wore a cheeky grin as he loosened his tie at long last. Phil shot her a look.

"It's a first date. A good first date just indicates potential, nothing more. And I think there is some potential. She's nice and she wants kids. She is checking off a lot of boxes for me."

He decided to leave out the fact that he had no idea how to introduce her to his life in SHIELD or explain exactly how Evelyn came into his life. And he had no idea how to break it to her that folk music made his ears bleed. Discussions were eminent if this relationship was to work out at all. The main concern was finding out where to start.

Phil arrived at work the next morning running off of a few hours of sleep and excessive amounts of caffeine. Evelyn had kept him up half the night with questions about Jennifer. What color was her hair? What color was her dress? Did she have kids? She should have kids because she wanted to play with them. Did she like Captain America? Phil was not allowed to continue to see her if she did not like Captain America. What kind of food did she like? Did she like cookies? What _kind_ of cookies? It was very important that she like chocolate chip cookies or it was obvious that she was a horrible person.

Phil eventually had to cut her off and tell her to get to bed or else she would be too tired to stay up for a movie night the next evening. He was too excited to sleep that even with the prescribed sleeping aids he only was able to get a few hours in with mixed results. Sleepy feelings lingered in the corners of his eyes, dragging him down into a mire of incomplete thoughts and uncontrollable yawns. He had yawned so many times, tears rolled from his eyes and his jaw was actually becoming a bit sore from the strain of being forced open. Maria brought him a coffee as he slogged through his morning work load. It was a neverending swamp of paperwork and memos of varying degrees of relevance.

"You look worse than the guy who crashed on my couch last night," she as Phil gulped down half the mug of coffee in one swallow. It took a long second before he resurfaced.

"Yeah, thanks. Evelyn kept me up last night with questions about Jen."

"I'm sure you would have rather have been kept up all night with Jen instead."

Phil choked on his coffee. His throat constricted so the liquid made a U-turn and came out his nose. Hill was renowned for her lack of tact as well as her uncanny insight into seemingly everyone and everything under the sun. After five years, she never ceased to find new ways amaze him. She continued as he tried to clear his head into a box of Kleenex.

"Bobbi told me that Evelyn was hilarious as you tried to explain dating."

"I'm surprised how much she understands," shrugged Phil, snorting to make sure he could breathe through his nose again, "And how much she misses the point entirely. It's never boring."

"You know what else isn't boring? Being there for your teammates," said a sardonic voice behind Hill.

"Morning Director Fury." Maria quickly addressed him and went to her work station, her own pile of paperwork awaiting.

Phil said good morning but added, "In my defense it was my night off, Boss."

"I know." Nick responded relaxing against the doorframe. "I wanted to know how it went."

Phil struggled for a second to find a word for what he wanted to express. He didn't want to sound overly sappy but it seemed like there was no other way to explain things. "I _really_ like her Nick. She's just... she's..."

Beautiful? Interesting? A figure from a dream? He was having trouble with adjectives today. Language fell apart like paper in the rain. Anything he managed to slap together was a poor representation of reality.

"Did you sleep with her?" He was rudely pulled from his brief solipsism by Nick's pointed question.

"You're never one to beat around the bush," commented Phil. "No, I didn't because I'm a gentleman."

Fury raised an inquisitive eyebrow but fortunately did not press further or go into depth why Phil was painting himself with a rather broad brush nor did he begin to list of the ungentlemanly things Phil may or may not have done in the past. Instead he changed gears, "How much did you tell her about your day job?"

"I didn't realize I was getting the full interrogation," Phil leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms indignantly across his chest. "I didn't tell her anything. I said I was in the security business. Don't worry. I didn't spill any trade secrets. Gonna take more than a pretty lady to loosen my lips."

"Depends on the lady," sassed Nick, "In that case, you should know if you are going to run with scissors you better be damn sure you aren't going to trip."

"You're being cryptic again, Nick," warned Phil, "If you have something to say, say it. Don't make me break out the 'Nick Fury decoder ring.'"

Fury shot him a look from his one good eye. His voice lacked mirth for the first time in the conversation. "You start on the slippery slope of lying, it's going to become hard to maintain. Everything will come to light one way or another eventually."

"You're one to talk."

"I'm very good at what I do," countered Fury, "I've had years of practice. You, on the other hand, have no poker face."

"So, what's your point?" He didn't even bother trying to deny the poker face accusation. Nick wasn't exaggerating too much.

"My point is, you need to figure out what it is you want so I can figure out what to do with your tangled mess of a life."

"I doubt my life is the most tangled one here. We all live in a tangle of our own design."

"But it's gotta be the sort of tangle that you want to deal with. If you are twisting your life in a mess for something that isn't worth it, that isn't what you really want, what do you have at the end of the day?"

"So you're saying don't date her?" Phil challenged.

"No, I'm saying make sure it's what you want and that it's worth it. I mean, she could get freaked out if you tell her the truth. We're not exactly normal."

Phil glanced down at his desk at the stacks and stacks of case files of mutant students. A stack of applications for the academy, lined up in neat little rows awaited his order. Life leaned more toward the abnormal with every passing day.

"I'll think about it Nick," he offered, "I know what you are trying to say and I get it. But Jen is special. I wouldn't have asked her out if I didn't think there was something there. I wouldn't have subjected myself to folk music unless I really liked her."

"Folk, man, seriously," Fury shook his head, "make her a mixtape of some _real_ music. Not that twangy hippie nonsense."

Phil opened his mouth to say something when an intercom system rattled through the halls. "All Level 6 and 7 Agents please report to conference room A."

"What?" Phil stood, grabbing his service side arm and following Fury out the door. "Nick? What's this about?"

"Duty calls, Coulson."

"Carlton."

"Whatever. Nobody calls you that," he said, "You need to get on a bus. This is an observation mission for you."

"Observation?" he asked, "What am I observing?"

"You're going to meet someone who is going to become a thorn in your side," Fury turned, "His name is Magneto."


	10. Pt 1 Ch 10: Do You Even Lift?

He enjoyed wearing a suit for work but was not terribly comfortable with dinner parties and having to don a full tuxedo. The bow tie rubbed awkwardly against his chin, unlike his standard long tie. On top of that, parties were full of superfluous decorum. There were too many forks to keep track of in a formal setting and too many etiquette rules which required observation. He was also the only SHIELD representative there and could not find a friendly face anywhere around. Sure, there were a lot of people but he didn't know any of them. Fortunately, he met with Anita early on.

She waited in the foyer, glancing around the room. They had made telephone contact so they could pass on some information for the event and described their appearance so that they could find each other at the event. She was a small Asian lady in a long purple dress and a sheer white shawl embroidered with golden flowers draped over her shoulders. Her hooded dark eyes sparkled under the golden chandeliers. Phil walked up and introduced himself.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Carlton. I am looking forward to working with you," she had a slight bow to her head as she shook his hand.

"Likewise," he said, "I'm very new to the world of mutants so I am grateful to have a guide."

"They're not really different than other people," she smiled, "You'll see pretty quickly."

They walked from the foyer into the ballroom. Behind them, picketers lined the street. Phil blocked out the rumble of the crowd, focusing on Anita. He had a concealed weapon his holster, snug against his tuxedo vest. It was only in case things took a turn for the violent and he needed to defend himself. With a little luck, everyone will behave and his gun could stay where it was.

"So, what is your story?" asked Phil as they walked toward the main hall, "What got you into mutant activism?"

"My brother," she replied, "He's an Alpha Class mutant. I started getting interested when I was helping him. I met others. I knew I had to help somehow."

Phil smiled, "Are you a mutant too?"

"No," she shook her head, "I'm a boring human."

"I wouldn't say 'boring,'" commented Phil as they reached their table. He pulled out Anita's chair for her and pushed it in once she was seated.

"So, what about you?" she asked as Phil took a seat next to her, "I understand SHIELD is interested in mutant recruitment but I'm not exactly sure what it is you want to accomplish or what kind of people you need."

"Well," he said, pulling at his bow tie because it was impossibly tight against his throat, "We're a national security organization, as you know. There is a great deal of talent in the mutant pool and we would like to ensure those opportunities have a fair shake. We have some singularly unique positions where they may be able to thrive, perhaps even better than a regular human."

"So you want them for military positions," she deduced.

"Some of them," admitted Phil, "But also science, computers, aviation, research and development. We have a full academy so students can be in the company of other people of their intellectual caliber while they train and study. There is a lot of opportunity beyond combat and security positions."

Anita nodded, pondering his words, "And this has not been open to mutants previously?"

"We're at the mercy of congress. They control the majority our budget."

"Ah!" she interjected, "That explains it."

"My superiors decided that," he paused, "invoking the ire of congress was a risk worth taking in this case. The benefits of a wider recruitment pool far outweigh any sort of trouble we might cause in the world of politics."

Anita laughed, covering her mouth politely with the back of her hand, her voice like a waterfall. "I like that attitude."

The food arrived: a choice of steak topped with caramelized onions and mushrooms or a fish stuffed with herbs and vegetables. There were also options of red and white wine, respectively. Phil took steak. He noticed Anita had the fish. She politely thanked the server every time he refilled her water.

"You said your brother is a mutant?"

"Yes," she smiled, "Martin has the ability to see short glimpses of the future."

"Wow," Phil blinked, "That's… remarkable."

"It has its downsides," she admitted, "He's never really sure about where his visions fit in with the world at large. Sometimes he can focus and get more information but it requires concentration and he tires out before there is a coherent picture. There is also the physical effects of being a mutant. The worst of which is that he has very sensitive eyes. He has no choice but to stay in low-light areas or wear lots of eye protection when he wants to go outside. You can see how this would be difficult growing up."

"You couldn't play outside much," considered Phil.

"Or go to school or have many friends," she added, "On top of the stigma of being a mutant."

"I see why you chose your line of work."

"Someone has to do it," she insisted, "Stand up for people who can't stand up for themselves."

Phil nodded, "I understand that. I also understand that the mutant world is in an interesting state right now. A lot of people have a lot of stake in things."

Anita chewed slowly, taking her time to swallow before answering."I'm not sure I understand what you are getting at."

"Well, I was put on an observation mission earlier this week to learn about Magneto…"

"Oh, yes," she said, her expression darkening a bit around the edges, "The Brotherhood."

"My boss said I needed to learn what I could. I was there at the mutant demonstrations on Wall Street and watched him crush a car with one hand. It's… impressive," Phil left out that he was terrified out of his wits. Tactically speaking, he couldn't even begin to think how people would be able to successfully combat that sort of thing. Modern day life was possible largely because of metal. What could you do when someone could tear metal apart like tissue paper? "But I don't understand what their issue is. Why they are going to such extremes? What is the point?"

Anita was silent for a long moment, "It's complicated. Lots of things are complicated. To condense everything down to an insultingly basic statement, the Brotherhood believes in mutant superiority rather than merely mutant rights. Their opinion is that the best reaction for extremism is more extremism. It's a counter-protest taken to the farthest possible degree. Which, obviously, doesn't help people just trying to live a normal life."

"Like you and your brother."

"Precisely," she nodded, "I think you will get more out of talking with Professor Xavier. He has a history with Magneto and other members of the Brotherhood. All in all, he's the expert."

"Well, then I'm in the right place," Phil smiled, "I can't wait for the Q and A."

He was surprised when Professor Xavier took the stage. The man was small, bald, and wheelchair bound. But he had a voice that boomed across the stage, clearly audible even without a microphone. His eyes were the color of a stormy ocean, power palpable even at a distance.

"Good Evening," he said, voice clean and precise, "Thank you all for coming this evening. This show of support for human rights has become more important now than it ever has before. The relationship between mutants and humans is a mutually beneficial one. We are here tonight, and always, to support and promote that relationship. I want to begin by thanking all the people who have stood united for fairness and equality. Without your help, all would be lost from the very start."

Phil leaned back and let the words wash over him. Phil absorbed every ounce of information he could find, an eager student. The early history of mutations was fairly common knowledge but hearing it from the perspective of someone who walked through history… or rolled through history.

Phil felt something tickle the back of his head. It was like being poked in the brain from the inside out. The edges of his visions became fuzzy, like an aged photograph. His eyes flickered over to Anita, feeling slightly dizzy. She was laughing at something, so he laughed as well but it sounded forced even to his ears.

His head plunged forward but he caught it and nodded, acting like he had been paying attention the whole time. A haze rested precariously over his head but Phil thought it may have been due to drink. Normally he was not this much of a lightweight but a good deal of stress weighed on his shoulders. The confrontation on Wall Street left him shaken and, it seemed, open to outside influence. Perhaps it would be best to stick with water for the duration of the evening. The speech went on to conclude a few minutes later. He thanked the audience and wheeled off the stage. Phil applauded, a smile across his face.

"What do you think?" asked Anita.

"I think I have a lot to learn. But, it is going to be interesting."

"It's always interesting," she said, standing and adjusting her shawl across her shoulders. "Come on, I have more people you ought to meet."

Phil let himself drift back into the crowd of excited dinner guests. There were a number of other people who Phil chatted with. His pocket was stuffed with business cards and contact information by the end of the night. Anita chatted with several people. She smiled and laughed at people's jokes. Being around her was easy, like she was everyone's oldest and best friend. Finally, he managed to work his way toward the man of the hour.

"Phil, I would like to introduce you to Professor Charles Xavier. Professor, this is Phil Carlton of SHIELD."

"It is wonderful to meet you," said Phil, taking the professor's hand.

"It is interesting to see government representation here," noted Xavier, returning his handshake.

"Only in the interest of helping opening doors for mutants," said Phil diplomatically, "The mutant population is a valuable human resource. It is foolish to disregard them. Not when there is always a great need for extraordinary people."

"Well, extraordinary is hardly unusual for us. I am glad to see people are recognizing our potential. You are working with Miss Dan? I do believe you two will get along just fine."

Phil and Anita looked at each other and then back at the Professor. It was a puzzling statement but he didn't have time to dwell on it. Already a small crowd gathered, all vying for the professor's attention.

"I won't keep you," said Phil, "But I appreciated your speech. It really helped me. Thank you very much."

"It is my pleasure."

"I would stay and chat more," Anita noted with a glance at her gold wrist watch, "But I have an early flight back to Portland."

"Maine?"

"Oregon," she corrected, "Although I wish it was the shorter flight."

"Ah," he laughed, "I didn't realize you were that far away. You flew all the way out here just for this?"

"Travel is the best part of my job," she shrugged, "And I don't mind. It's fun to go to new places and meet new people."

Phil nodded. Part of the cool thing about SHIELD was travel as well. Even on the dangerous missions, being in locations of interest or importance held a certain thrill. He fell into stride next to Anita as they made their way back to the main foyer.

"I'll walk you out," insisted Phil.

"That's very kind of you."

They looked back out into the street. It may have been Phil's imagination, but it seemed like the crowd had grown in size and volume since they arrived. It at least doubled in size. throughout the duration of the dinner and speech. Signs poked out from the sea of rage, full of slogans profane and inhumane. His stomach clenched, his own anger boiling.

"Should we find a back exit?" asked Phil.

"Nope," she insisted, striding forward and out the doors before Phil could say or do anything to stop her. Angry faces slipped in and out of focus. Their voices swelled and then settled into a noisy static. No voice rose above the others, instead it stayed as a neverending rumble like the raging sea. Anita's face assumed a mask. Her eyes stared straight ahead while she briskly made her way through the crowd, her hands balled into fists at her sides. Phil followed, mirroring her actions but found himself unable to block out the tumultuous shouting. If he was on duty, he would try to find ways to break up the shouting crowd. He couldn't think of anything at the moment but that doesn't mean it was a hopeless cause. Instinctively, he began mentally recalling tactical support procedures but he was pulled from his thoughts by a louder than usual voice.

"Hey, Lady!"

Phil wrapped an arm around her shoulder, blocking her away from the crowd. He shot a glare into the crowd, hoping that this didn't result in a scene. His vision narrowed as he looked around the street, trying to find a clear exit among the throng. The cold metal of the gun pressed against his torso, reminding him of his options. Whoever yelled didn't follow up, fortunately for everyone. They walked onto the street and over to the parking garage with her car.

"You didn't need to stand up for me," she smiled, "I've been doing this for a long time."

"Just being nice," he insisted, holding the car door open for her.

"It's very kind of you. I appreciate it. But this is far from my first rodeo. I've done my fair share of staring down the crowd." She climbed into the car, rolling down the window to continue talking with Phil.

"I'm impressed."

"It's a dangerous line of work. Do like the Boy Scouts and be prepared."

Phil chuckled, his mouth turning up into a smile, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

"Here's looking at you, kid," she smiled, turning over the engine of the rental car, "I'll be in touch."

Phil waved as the car took off down the street. He walked over to his own car, tiredness beginning to settle in. The sun was only just barely sinking below the horizon. Pink and orange beams of light waltzing across the windows and chrome.

Monday afternoon, Maria picked Evelyn up from school. The little girl was unusually quiet and Maria knew better than to press. She hurried to the family apartment and ushered the little girl inside, pulling her backpack off with one easy swoop. Phil was playing cheesy retro rock but it was nearly drowned out by a dull roar of machinery. She cracked the door to the living room open and sure enough, Phil was running the vacuum back and forth across the living room like a madman. The crooning of Buddy Holly overwhelmed Maria's attempts to get his attention.

"Phil? Phillip? COULSON!"

He stopped in his tracks, "What? Oh, hey guys, how's my little girl?"

He came over and took Evelyn from her arms kissing her head and making squelching noises causing her to giggle and squirm out of his arms. Girly squeals of glee turned into bubbling laughter.

He turned to Maria, "You're early."

"You need to answer your phone. There was an incident."

"What? Doom? Magneto?"

"No, not a work thing. Evelyn was sent home early."

"Why?" He turned to Evelyn and put her down, "Honey, what happened?"

"Just normal stuff..." She pouted, "I don't know why I got sent home."

Phil blinked for a second, "What did Mrs. Burns say?"

Maria opened her mouth but Evelyn cut in, "She said I was weird."

Phil felt his blood boil, throbbing at his temples. He looked over at Maria and she shrugged her shoulders. Maria's voice was strangely quiet. "Her teacher was kind of hysterical when I got there and... frankly, I'm not sure I believe what she said."

Phil turned quickly back to Evelyn. "Did Mrs. Burns yell at you?"

"...Yes." She started tugging on the sleeves of her yellow cardigan.

"What were you doing when she yelled at you?"

"Helping."

"With what honey?"

"Clean up."

"What were you helping clean up?" asked Phil, eyebrows folding together. Nothing was making sense. There was no good reason to call Evelyn any kind of name.

"Macaroni." She smiled with her two front teeth missing. The gap in her teeth created a little bit of a whistling noise, "It went everywhere after Billy threw it at Naomi because he was trying to get it in her swirly hair."

"Okay honey," he patted her head, "How were you helping Mrs. Burns clean?"

"Like this." The girl ran around her dad to the love seat and picked it up all by herself, holding the furniture over her head as easily as if it was made of styrofoam. Maria and Phil gasped, looked at each other and covered their mouths attempting to stifle whatever noise came out to avoid startling her.

"She yelled at me that I can't be picking up large objects, Papa." The girl continued, unaware of the adult's reaction, "I thought a car is a large object, not her desk..." She slurred the j in the word because of her missing teeth, causing Phil to laugh nervously.

"Honey," he whispered, "Put down the love seat. It's not normal for kids your age to pick up such heavy objects. I'm sure that's what Mrs. Burns meant."

She put it down with an audible, but not loud, thud, "So I'm not supposed to lift?"

"No, Honey, only small things. Ask me before you pick something up that's as big as you," Phil's mouth was running on autopilot.

His brain was not capable of firing off much more than, "Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!"

"Okay...but it was fun," she admitted, toying with the loose thread on her cardigan again.

"I know dear, just, you need to be careful, Accidents can happen when you pick up big objects so it's not a good idea. We'll talk more later," he ran his fingers through her hair. Actually, he needed a little time to get his thoughts in order before he could say or do anything else. "How about you run in the kitchen and get the cheese out for spaghetti and meatballs. I'll be there in a bit, okay?"

Her eyes lit up and she ran into the other room, her auburn hair fluffed out behind her like a cape.

"Phil..." Maria looked at him as he turned around and sighed.

"I know," he said, trying to cut her off, "This looks bad."

"Has she done anything like this before? Does Fury know?"

"No! I'm just as shocked as you are. I really didn't see this one coming." He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, trying to relieve the headache he knew he was going to have later on.

"Coulson with that strength... when she gets older and has teenage hormones, she might hurt someone by accident."

"I know, I know. Just… how am I going to explain this to Nick?" His heart pounded as he looked at his little girl. She skipped as she walked around the kitchen, pulling down plates while standing on her tip-toes to reach. "How am I going to explain this to… anyone?"

"Phil," warned Maria, "You can't let this one go. We're going to have to address why this stuff is happening. We need to come up with a plan in case of accidents. There is a lot of stuff needed to be done in order for her to keep going as she's going."

He nodded, slowly, as realization sank in. "Tomorrow...right now I have someone to call..."

"Who? Did you have company tonight?"

"Yeah... A date." Phil's body language sort of deflated as he walked over to the cordless phone.

"Wait, Jennifer from the cafe? Was that tonight?"

"Yeah."

"But you said you two hit it off. Don't cancel." Maria attempted to walk over to him but stopped herself.

"Maria I have to, Jen...she wouldn't understand."

She inwardly sighed and went in the other room to avoid gathering any more pity for the man. She hurried Evelyn off so that Phil could make the phone call he needed. Giggling, Evelyn began to help put dinner on plates. Meanwhile, Phil closed the door to the master bedroom, sitting on the bed. It burned him up that Nick was right. Whatever lies he fabricated to make things work with Jen were not going to hold up under scrutiny. And there wasn't a lie big enough on the planet to explain away what he just saw with his daughter. He looked down at his phone in one hand and the number doodled in loopy numbers on the napkin. The idea of having to call and deliver this message was sending cracks through his heart.

Maybe it was a small blessing that the phone went to voicemail. Jennifer's soft, sweet voice rang from the other side of the line in a prerecorded message, "Hello, this is Jennifer's phone. I'm not able to answer right now. Please leave a message and the number you can be reached at and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks! Bye!"

"Hey, Jen," said Phil quietly, "Uh... something has come up. I'm...I'm so sorry. I'm not gonna be around so much anymore. It's a... a work thing. I'm sorry if this disappoints. I'm so, so, so sorry."

He rested a hand against his forehead. No matter how many times he said sorry, it would never be nearly enough. There isn't any way this could break her heart or anything like that but it was an evening ruined... for the both of them.

"Bye," he said so quietly that his voice almost disappeared.

He had to sit there on the bed and try to recover. The dreams, the hopes he had been building up, the idea of maybe having a full family disappeared into nothing. He sighed at the end of it, going into the bathroom to splash water on his face and calm down. He needed to put on a happy face for Evelyn.

With a sigh, he recalled the good times with Evelyn. He had a daughter. He had a life, and a good one. Evelyn would need him and that was fine. The little girl needed a father, he reminded himself. That was important. Standing, he made his way into the kitchen where Maria and Evelyn were sitting, ready for dinner.

"Daddy!" smiled Evelyn from over at the table, "Come have dinner with us!"

The pasta, that was going to be used for romantic purposes was instead used for a family purpose and was then put into Tupperware containers. Evelyn stood on the chair to get them down for Maria, as she filled them. Evelyn skipped across the kitchen to put the leftovers in the fridge, but not without reward by grabbing a Fig Newton.

Phil noticed, "Evey, hun, just that one cookie. Now go to your room, I will check in later to make sure you're either reading or working on your schoolwork."

"Okay, Papa."

He and Maria sat in the living room on the couch, simply enjoying the silence. Phil got up and grabbed a beer out of the fridge, offering her one. He opened it and spoke, "It's hard enough trying to date and be a single father. It's not any easier when your daughter can also pick up a cement truck without breaking a sweat. Tell me honestly, is that the sort of mess a woman would like to get into?"

Maria shrugged and popped the cap on her bottle, "If she's the right one, it shouldn't matter to her. Everyone's a mess. It's just a matter of if they're your kind of mess."

Phil shook his head, "That may be true, but I can't take the heartbreak of trying to go through dating knowing damn well that most of the women I encounter won't be willing to handle this. I really can't take that kind of aggravation."

Something hurt inside Maria's chest. It was like something broke and it was all her fault. She shook her head, chastising herself for thinking of such a thought. It wasn't really her fault. None of this was her fault. Phil's life was not influenced by her, nor were his decisions.

"I'm sorry," she sighed, "Truly. I wish you could find some lady who understood and... well, and loved you regardless of if Evelyn is special or not."

Phil laughed without mirth, looking down at his half empty beer bottle, "It's not gonna happen. How, just, _how_ do you explain this? How do you say 'I'm a spy and I adopted this girl and she's... special... I can't explain it. I don't know anything about it. This is what you are getting into.' And then expect them to stick around?"

"You didn't even try with Jennifer!"

"I can't ask this of her."

"You don't know until you try," insisted Maria, "You could have had something great. Why do you feel the need to sabotage your own happiness?"

"It's complicated," grumbled Phil. He wished those two words weren't the repeating soundtrack of his life."I'm not going to set myself up for failure. And I'm not going to put Evey through repeated rejections. What is that going to do to her? She's going to feel like nobody loves her. It would be difficult enough if she was a normal kid but now it's just going to be worse."

Maria looked at her hands before looking back up. "I understand. It just seems unfair to you."

"I'm being selfish," he dismissed.

"You're allowed to be a little bit selfish," interjected Maria, "Insofar as your happiness is concerned."

"But I'm happy with Evey," said Phil, his heart breaking a little bit at the idea, "It's… It's fine. Right now, her needs are more than mine. She's a child."

They sat in comfortable silence, thinking over each other's words. Below them, the city hummed with life and somewhere out there Jen was listening to his phone message. Phil hated to cut things off but, he kept reminding himself it was for the best.

"Well, Captain Hill..."

"Commander now," corrected Maria, "It just became official today."

"Really?"

"Yeah," she grinned, "They're doing a small ceremony for a couple of promotions. If you'd like to be there, you're more than welcome."

"Absolutely," promised Phil. He held up his beer bottle to toast her, "Congratulations, then, Commander for all your good luck and being the one and only woman ever not to run away screaming from my home life."

Now he had a mess to clean up. He stayed up half the night trying to assess the damage and figure out how to remedy the situation. Eventually tiredness overcame the busy hum of his brain and he wandered into a restless sleep. The sleepy feeling didn't leave when his alarm buzzed to rouse him in the morning. He stumbled through the day in a haze. So much so he almost didn't notice the lady on the street attempting to flag him down.

"Mr. Carlton?"

Phil turned at hearing his civilian name and saw the person who addressed him right away. It was a woman in a blue suit with a tight pencil skirt. Her eyes were shielded by a pair of bronze-tinted aviator glasses. She held a very official-looking clipboard. Everything about her screamed "agency." Her heels clacked on the sidewalk as she caught up with him on his commute to work.

"My name is Jan Quincy and I'm with AIM, Advanced Ideas in Motion. We're a government-funded think-tank," said the strange woman handing Phil a business card. He had to shift the paper bags in order to free his hand. "My department specializes in neurological biochemistry. Namely, we want to try and see what the human brain is capable of doing. Specifically, we want to take a look at your daughter."

"Why is Evelyn of interest to you?" said Phil slowly. He had been careful to keep her special condition under wraps as much as possible for this exact reason, mostly at Nick Fury's suggestion. If Evelyn was going to have a bunch of tests on her body, it should be her decision when she was old enough to make it. Or it would be because Nick gave him no choice.

"Just following up on some leads, recommendations," she replied vaguely, "I'm sure you have wanted some answers as to why your daughter is... special."

"I have Evelyn enrolled in a schooling program already," lied Phil, attempting to dodge the request quickly and easily, "I don't think those folks would much appreciate me dropping out."

The woman's mouth twitched into a frown but quickly righted itself before she spoke again. "What a shame. In any case, keep the card. Let me know if you change your mind."

"I will keep this," promised Phil, although he intended on running it through the SHIELD database before making any further action.

"Your daughter is quite a special little girl," said Jan with a phony-looking smile, full of too many teeth and not enough lip, "She could be invaluable to bringing about great changes in the world. Please consider that."

Something about her grin make Phil incredibly ill at ease. The woman looked like a shark in a fish market, eager to find some victim to eat. Like hell was he going to let Evelyn turn into shark chum.

"I'll give it due consideration," said Phil diplomatically, putting the business card into his jacket pocket and watching the lady disappear into the crowd like a ghost in mist. It was eggshell white with a sickly yellow logo and neatly typewritten data. It was a professional job. Someone was funding them or they were otherwise making money somehow. There was a paper trail somewhere. It was just a matter of picking it up.

He immediately ran to work to run background checks on the organization. There was surprisingly little about them in their files, considering that she said they were government funded. Phil sighed, chances were their funding was rolled up in red tape. It would take days to pick up the paper trail and many phone calls to very boring bureaucratic officials.

Nick wanted to hear all the details about Evelyn's incident. Phil reluctantly sat down to the meeting, spilling his guts. He told Nick everything he knew, from the lifting to the strange meeting with AIM that morning.

"I'm pretty sure it was her preschool teacher who pointed AIM in her direction. She's the only one outside of SHIELD who has seen Evey's," he fumbled for a word for a long moment, "Abilities"

"We can send someone to talk her down," replied Fury, "Get the heat off of you. That way, you won't have to fake your own death again."

"I don't think that's necessary. I found a Montessori school closer to home so she can finish up pre-school there. She starts kindergarten this fall. Clean slate. Nobody will know anything about her there. I hate moving her around but I don't think I have a choice."

Nick paused looking at Phil. He knew Phil was going to come up with a gameplan, it was just a matter of time before he put it into action. He handed Nick the business card.

"I want them investigated," he requested,"I have a hunch they're up to something. Why else would they be so interested in someone like Evelyn? Why else would they follow up on this lead so quickly? I hope I'm wrong but I would much rather be safe than sorry."

"I'll pass it along but we have a backlog to deal with already. Our investigation department is already busy with Latveria."

"I know," Phil interrupted, changing gears quickly, "Just make sure someone looks at this. They smell fishy to me. I mean, what kind of people go around looking for kids with superpowers and try to recruit them? It seems questionable to me."

"We'll open a file," promised Nick, "And we'll keep an eye open and see what comes up. That's all we can do right now."

"That works for me."


	11. Pt 1 Ch 11:Elementary My Dear Coulson

Before her first day of kindergarten, Phil had to establish some ground rules for his daughter. There was a list of things she was not to do in front of the other kids such as heavy lifting, showing off her strength, and picking fights. It had been a long time since she received any unwanted attention. Every once in a great while he got junk mail from AIM but he threw it in the bin without even opening it. As far as he knew, they hadn't reached out to contact Evelyn directly and he was keen on keeping it that way.

Nick offered to put an agent on campus to keep an eye on Evelyn during the day and do damage control if she slipped up. Phil didn't want to do it for the sake of giving the little girl a sense of autonomy. Furthermore, he felt confident that there would be no problems and setting someone up would just be a waste of valuable manpower. Although he had a hunch Nick was fully intending on setting up an agent anyway, regardless of if he gave permission.

She sat at the breakfast table, too excited for her first day of school to eat her corn flakes. Her gingery hair was pulled into twin braids on either side of her head, frizzy from sleeping on them. The purple ribbons hung in limp loops. He would have to re-do her hair before she went off to class. Her Minnie Mouse nightgown was a bit too big for her and hung off her shoulders a bit. Phil learned to buy clothes which were slightly too large for her because she would grow into them quickly.

Phil sipped his tea, "Remember what we said, Evelyn."

Her feet dangled from the chair, feet still not quite reaching the ground. She said the words with little interest because Phil had repeated them with her time and time again."It's not important to stand out. It's important to do the right thing. And sometimes the right thing means blending in."

She picked up her Captain America doll from the counter. Cap had two different colored blue eyes now. The button for the left one fell off a month back. Evelyn cried when she couldn't find it. But Phil managed to replace it with a spare button from one of his old dress shirts which was almost the same color.

"I can be like Cap and keep a secret identity."

"I was hoping you would say that," smiled Phil, "Come on, let's get you ready. Kindergarten awaits."

About an hour later, Phil walked up to the charming red brick building with Evelyn holding his hand. Despite her repeated requests, he did not drop her off a block away and let her walk in and introduce herself to everyone on the first day of kindergarten. Although, Lord knows, she would do it. But that just wouldn't be very responsible parenting on his part.

"Did you remember your lunch, Evey?"

She almost rolled her eyes at him while she shrugged her blue canvas backpack onto her shoulders, her vintage tin Captain America lunchbox in her other hand, "Yes, Papa. And I have my backpack and my school supplies. I'm ready."

"I'm just checking," he said, looking down at his daughter.

They spent the night before meticulously picking through her wardrobe to find the perfect thing to wear. Evelyn finally settled on a purple flowered jumper, little black Mary Jane shoes with lacy socks, and Phil tied a matching bow in her hair. Over the past five years, he had become fairly adept at doing things like tying hair bows and picking out dresses. Had anyone asked him before that night in New Mexico if he could foresee this becoming his future, he probably would have denied it or assumed they were crazy. But, now that he was taking his daughter to her first day of real school, he felt like he wouldn't have it any other way.

Evelyn ran ahead, kicking up the first crunchy fall leaves as she ran and giggling, "Come on Papa! I'm going to be late!"

Phil followed her down the sidewalk and into the school building. It took a few minutes to find the classroom but it was unmistakably a kindergarten class. The room was festooned with brightly colored posters with the alphabet or numbers on them. Toys were stacked on child-sized shelves. Painting easels were set up by the window with thick stacks of paper already pinned to them.

The desks and chairs were far too small for any adult to sit in comfortably, and probably more than a little awkward for Evelyn. Truthfully, she wasn't that much taller than the other children her age but there was enough of a difference that it was noticeable to both Phil and the other parents. Phil had poured over parenting books to learn about things such as growth spurts to better prepare himself for her future. According to his reading, it isn't unusual for a child to be a bit taller for a year or two. It just means their growth spurt hit a bit earlier than most. That was probably what happened with Evelyn. It would all even out in the next few months.

The child development books were, however, woefully lacking with information about a child who could pick up a car with one hand. Every book on the planet was woefully lacking on the subject.

"Evey, let's find your teacher," called Phil over the kids who were already starting to buzz loudly with excitement of the first day of school.

Phil glanced around the room and it took him about three seconds to find Mrs. Keesler. She was a larger woman in a bright dress of many blocks of color and massive, chunky jewelry in the shape of school supplies. It was as though the kindergarten classroom came to life.

"Papa, I think that's her," said Evelyn pointing toward the lady.

"Don't point, Evey, it's not nice," corrected Phil automatically but he steered her over there anyway.

"Uh, Mrs. Keesler? I'm Phil Carlton and this is my daughter, Evelyn."

"Oh my, it is such a pleasure to finally meet you both," she said, taking Phil's hand and shaking it exuberantly. The lady had a very firm grasp. "And how are you doing today, Miss Evelyn?"

"I'm doing well, Ma'am. You can call me Evey if you want," she said, almost curtsying a little. Phil had to stop himself from swelling up with pride for his daughter.

"Alright, Evey, let's find you a seat."

As Mrs. Keesler led Evey to one of the desks with a bright name tag, Phil felt his pager beep in his pocket. He shouldn't have been shocked to see Nick Fury was trying to reach him. Sighing deeply, he walked over to where Evelyn was settling into her desk.

"Evey, I have to go to work now," he said, kneeling down to the level of the desk as she squirmed to get comfortable in her seat, "If I'm not here to pick you up at noon, then look for one of the people from work to come and pick you up and…"

He dropped his voice to an undertone so no one else would hear it but him and Evelyn.

"…remember to ask to see their badge first, okay? Even if it is someone you know, like Maria."

Evelyn nodded solemnly, "Okay, Papa. Be safe."

"You be good today, okay?" said Phil at his regular volume, leaning forward to kiss Evelyn's forehead goodbye.

"Yes, Papa."

"I love you," he said to Evelyn as he stood up.

"I love you too."

"Do you remember the emergency contact numbers?"

"Dad," said Evelyn, drawing out the vowel in annoyance, "You can go now."

Phil smiled, trying not to laugh, "Okay. Bye Evey."

They fell into a routine every day. Phil would drop her off at school, go to work, and pick her up in the afternoon. The evenings were their special time, after dinner, when he would get a chance to play board games with her or watch movies or go to the park so she could play with the other kids. They were, in every sense of the word, a normal family.

Except they weren't.

School started well but Phil still made it a point to work through things carefully every day to make sure her power stayed in check. It was a precaution he felt he needed to go through. Not that Evelyn particularly abused her powers but all it took was one person to be looking the wrong way for the cat to fly out of the bag.

One day while they were at the park, she picked up a Honda Accord to help a mother duck and her little row of ducklings get across the street. Phil noticed, racing across the street to get her to stop. She put the car down as the duck family disappeared into the tall grass.

"Evey, what are you doing?" he exclaimed, brushing off the dust from the front of her yellow dress. Motor oil stained part of the sleeve. He did not relish the scrubbing it would take to get that out. "You could have been hurt! Someone could have _seen_ you!"

"Papa," she squirmed away from him, "I was just helping!"

"Evelyn, you have to be careful. If someone saw you, then..." He cut himself off. He didn't know how to explain it to her. "Evey, we talked about this."

"Nobody saw me!" She stamped her foot, "You told me I was supposed to be helpful and do the right thing."

"I also told you, you need to be careful. You're not," _normal,_ was the word he was going to use but that would be unduly mean. He quickly corrected himself, "like other children. You can't just…"

He sighed, standing. He took her hand and briskly walked back to the car. Evelyn pouted at him when he buckled her into her spot but he ignored her. There was no way she was going to charm her way out of this one, not with everything at stake. And he worked so hard to go over this every single day, reminding her to be careful!

"I'm disappointed in you," he told her, shutting the car door with a thud. He glanced in the rearview mirror. Evelyn's pout had dissolved into silent tears. Now he felt bad. He knew he shouldn't. She needed discipline and she wasn't going to get it if he rolled over every time she got upset with him. She needed to know when she wasn't doing the right thing. Actually it was right, but not the right way to go about it. Explaining the difference was tricky navigation even in the best of times.

"Evey, do you understand why I'm upset?"

"Because I used my strength where people might see."

"No, I'm disappointed that you didn't listen to me," explained Phil, "I'm only trying to keep you safe. I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want people who might try to hurt you too…"

He swallowed, focusing on the road. He didn't want to think of what could happen. Even the best case scenarios left him feeling uneasy. The point was not to scare her, but he wanted her to know there were real risks.

"I love you very much, Evey," he admitted, "And if someone hurt you, I don't know what I would do."

She didn't respond right away. Instead, she stared at the back of his seat, wiping her eyes. With a sigh she said, "I love you too, Papa."

Dinner was mostly stony silence. They were polite to each other but not particularly vocal. The usual joy of their encounters was muted. Evelyn brushed her teeth and got ready for bed. Phil lingered in the living room. There was a good deal of paperwork left to do as he set up the new recruit programs.

Currently, there was no way to train people with exceptional physical abilities. They had what the agents fondly called "geek school" for the students who tested high intelligence or mental aptitude. But there was currently nothing similar for people like Evelyn who were unique physically. There was no way for them to train or to study their abilities at the level that they should. He was working with the R&D department to find ways to rectify things and build up a new school within the academy for recruits with super human abilities. It would be invaluable once the mutant recruitment pilot program began in earnest.

But things like this required money. Money that was not necessarily in the budget. At this rate, he would need to start holding SHIELD bake sales to come up with start up funds. The idea didn't seem too insane, the more he thought about it. Bobbi and Maria actually had halfway decent baking skills. Maria actually had an almond cookie recipe to die for. It took a moment, but became aware of the fact he was actually starting to consider a bake sale as a real solution for building a new school rather than a humorous flight of fancy. He rubbed his eyes, realizing he needed to get to bed. He managed to keep awake long enough to crawl under the covers and get his head on the pillow.

He awoke a few hours later to a piercing shriek coming from his daughter's bedroom. It was Phil's worst nightmare realized. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he scrambled for his service gun in his nightstand. He fumbled, sleepily trying to find the drawer but then he heard the pattering feet of Evelyn racing down the hall.

"Papa!"

"Evey? What's going on?"

"I had a nightmare." she quietly said as she stood in the doorway.

Phil sighed in relief and put the gun back into the nightstand, closing it tightly. Evelyn was holding Cap in one hand and her blue blanket in the other so tightly her knuckles appeared bright white even in the darkness of the room. Tears made her cheeks shine. Phil patted the end of the bed and Evelyn jumped toward him. The bedsprings protested the sudden impact.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" as he embraced her.

"It was the gold man," she whispered, "He picked me up and he threw me and…and I kept falling."

Phil sighed and hugged Evelyn. This wasn't the first dream she had about the gold man. While it didn't happen every night, it happened often enough that Phil could safely call it a returning nightmare. The dreams got worse when she had a bad day or was feeling stressed.

"Sweetie, there is no gold man," whispered Phil, holding his daughter close, "There is no one here to hurt you."

"And if there was? What if it was real?"

He looked at her earnestly in her shimmering eyes. "There is nobody here to hurt you and if there was, I would be here. I wouldn't let anyone hurt you. You know this, honey."

She gripped Phil even tighter, drying her tear-stained cheeks on his nightshirt. Phil started rocking her back and forth to get her to stop shaking in fear. Every time she dreamed about the gold man, she would be shaken to her core. It seemed like a simple nightmare but there seemed to be more to it. There was something about the gold man that scared Evelyn in ways that Phil didn't understand. He kept Evelyn close until long after she stopped crying and fell back to sleep. He carried her back, tucking her into her bed with Cap at her side.

He paused over the doll for a moment. "Keep her safe, Cap."

Elementary school went by fast, all things considered. Phil couldn't believe how time slipped along. With a blink, Evelyn was a ginger-haired eight-year-old. He couldn't be more proud. She did well in school and, for the most part, there were no problems. There were a few minor slip-ups of her strength but most could be argued away by natural causes.

"Hey, honey, how was school?" asked Phil as he put his own work away. Evelyn slid her backpack off and slumped into the chair at the bar.

"It was okay. We couldn't finish the group science project because Max was out sick with chickenpox. So we can't get graded on it until he's back and feeling better."

Phil paused, "Honey, you haven't had chickenpox, have you?"

"No."

He stopped for a second, considering it, "Have many of your classmates had chicken pox?"

She shrugged, "I dunno. Some have."

The idea seemed peculiar. He did some research the next day. He hadn't thought to get Evelyn vaccinated for chickenpox, assuming she was just going to pick it up naturally from one of her schoolmates. At least then, she would have the antibodies for it.

"It's not too unusual," explained Parker while Phil helped him pack up his office. "Some people go their whole lives without ever catching chickenpox. Although, if you are going to catch it, you want to catch it young because it is a _pain_ to deal with as an adult."

"I just ask because her teachers say the third grade is experiencing a chickenpox epidemic. I'm a bit surprised she hasn't caught it," Parker took a cardboard box from Phil and placed it on the cart.

"She may not have been exposed to the virus. She may have some really good antibodies in her," he paused for a second as his eyes sparked with an idea. "Was she breast fed?"

Phil shrugged, "I don't know what her birth mother did."

Parker adjusted his thick, black glasses on his nose. He had been wearing those Buddy Holly frames ever since he was a nerdy, but gifted, kid in the academy. "Right. Sorry. You two are so close that I forget that she was adopted. Short of knowing her early medical history, I can't really know much for certain. It could just be that you have an exceptionally healthy little girl."

"Could it be that it has something to do with her… abilities?" asked Phil. He had been taking Evelyn in to get her yearly physicals with Parker. It was easier to utilize the SHIELD resources over trying to find a physician who wouldn't freak out about her. "I was willing to accept this as a growth spurt but things have gotten weirder."

"It could have something to do with it," admitted Parker, stacking file folders into another cardboard box, "Her structural development is highly advanced for someone of her age. It stands to reason her immune system would be equally advanced. I haven't seen anything like this before or since. But I have no plausible reason for it, other than maybe the X-gene."

"Can we test for it here?"

Parker shrugged, "Sure. But it takes about a month to get a sample through the testing process. Although if I am being honest, it will probably take longer. Evelyn would be at the bottom of the list. We have a backlog of samples which need cataloguing."

"How bad of a backlog, do you think?"

Parker's smile lacked mirth. "Let me put it this way: if I worked twenty-four seven for a year with a full crew, I might be able to catch up."

Phil didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't that. "That bad?"

"We have to get samples from everyone incarcerated in the Fridge, our agents, FBI files, CIA files, Interpol files, national databases, and so forth. All of them have to be isolated, printed, catalogued, and digitized. We've barely made a dent in those, much less our pet projects. So if you are going to get her tested, you need to find somewhere else to do it. Or, alternatively, wait a few years and hope we've advanced the technology enough to speed up the process."

"Well, if anywhere was going to improve things, it would be wherever you are," said Phil with a smile, "I wish you luck at Oscorp."

"Thank you," smiled Parker, "It will be nice to get back into research and out of the field. For once I will be able to work without the fear of being shot at. Also I'll be working with Curtis Connors. He's doing some research on the human genome that I think has a good deal of promise for practical medical applications."

"Let me know if there is anything you need," assured Phil, "We're all here for you."

"I appreciate that," Parker replied. He picked up the last box and looked around his office with a sigh. "I'm going to miss everyone."

Phil walked into the apartment complex a few hours later, briefcase in hand and a new stack of papers to go over. There was _so much_ paperwork associated with recruitment, he felt like he would drown in a neverending sea of triplicate. He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice the stranger standing right inside the stairwell on the way to the apartment.

"Mr. Carlton?"

He wore a suit, which Phil looked upon with the eyes of absolute judgement. The pants were a dark pinstripe but the blazer was solid colored. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows in a haphazard way, which seemed to be the latest trend if the window displays at the mall were to be believed. The messy knot of tie was solid blue and didn't quite match up with the aquamarine shirt underneath to the point where Phil half-suspected the man must be colorblind to miss it.

"Yes," he hesitated.

"I'm with the think tank Advanced Ideas in Motion. I'm here about your daughter."

Phil crossed his arms in front of his chest. He did not like the idea of AIM being physically in the same building as Evelyn. She was with Maria but he didn't like this creep being anywhere near her. He felt his heart flutter with nervousness in his chest.

"What about her?"

"I'm sure you have been visited before," said the dark-suited man with a smirk, "It would be astounding if AIM had gone without investigating this... truly intriguing lead."

Phil almost rolled his eyes. Either AIM had really shoddy records regarding their visits or they were attempting to play him like a violin. He strongly suspected the latter given the man's slippery used-car-salesman persona. It took everything in his power to keep staring forward and avoid glancing over to the door.

"Yes," said Phil tiredly, "We have been contacted with AIM before. I stand by what I said then. Evelyn's case is being reviewed by other scientists. The study is ongoing. I can't pull her out, especially now."

"Who, specifically, is studying the young Ms. Carlton?"

"That's not important," countered Phil.

"Actually, it might be. We have data-sharing programs with many school districts, top universities and other think tanks. We could easily collect Evelyn's data from them."

"I'm afraid that's classified," said Phil with a glint to his eye. The dark suited man looked annoyed at his stonewalling but Phil stood firm. He stared down gangsters, politicians, terrorists, and evil aliens. He sure as hell wasn't going to be intimidated by a sloppily dressed fast-talker with over-gelled hair. That man was not going to come one inch closer to his daughter.

After a potent pause, the other man finally spoke again, "Shame. I'm sorry you feel that way, Mr. Carlton. Your daughter could be the next step human evolution."

Somehow, Phil got the feeling the man was speaking less about evolution and more about the other thing. He felt his blood boil at the idea of his girl being used for potentially nefarious ends.

"If it makes you feel any better, I've turned down the United States government as well," said Phil, his words halfway disingenuous, "I'm not interested in my girl being _used_ by anyone."

"Well, one only hopes that you change your mind, Mr. Carlton," said the man as he started making his way toward the door, turning back to throw his final words over his shoulder, "Your daughter is exactly the sort of thing humanity needs to advance."

He waited until the man was out of sight before he hurried to the apartment. His fingers fumbled, attempting to find the keys and shove the correct one into the lock. He threw the door open and shut it behind him, locking both the regular latch and the deadbolt.

"Evey?"

"Papa!" he heard the thud of her tiny feet race up the hall and his breathing returned to normal. She leapt into his arms, giggling as he pulled her into a hug. When he turned the corner, Maria was standing up and brushing off her knees. It looked like they may have been in the middle of a tea party.

"Did you see anyone odd around here this afternoon?" he asked, "Someone who shouldn't be here?"

"I did see an odd car outside, a black newer model Ford sedan. It looped around the block twice before parking."

"Who was in it?"

"Didn't get a good look," she shrugged, "But I think the driver might have been a bright blond male, on the skinny side."

Phil nodded, "Sounds like the guy. He's with AIM."

"Really?"

"They know where we live," muttered Phil, "They could-"

He didn't want to say the words in front of Evelyn because he didn't want to alarm her. But he did feel there was a real possibility that they would try to contact her directly. Beyond that, they could abduct her, track her, reveal her great secret to the world if they wanted to.

"We have to move," said Phil softly.

"What?" Evelyn looked troubled, "Why?"

Phil stammered, trying to figure out exactly what to say to Evelyn. Guilt rippled through him, this wasn't the first time they had to move. He feared it wouldn't be the last.

"We need to keep you safe."

Maria raised an eyebrow at him. Phil looked at her, over to Evelyn, and then back to Maria. His eyes pleaded for help. None arrived. Evelyn frowned, her eyebrows drawing in on each other. "You keep saying things like that, but I don't understand why!"

Phil still didn't have an answer that he felt good about. It wasn't their first move. But she had been a lot more accepting of it then. She was a child. It was an adventure for her to go and see somewhere new. She was also too young to understand what was going on. Now, she wanted answers and had enough sophistication to understand what was going on. It wasn't fair of him to hide answers from her anymore.

"So, I will have to go to a new place, away from my friends?" she frowned.

"I'm sorry, Evey," he said, hugging her close, "I really am. I wish you didn't have to but…"

He knelt down to look at her face-to-face, "There is a group of people who want you to go to one of their labs. But I don't have much information about them and I don't know what exactly they want to do with you. I don't know if they want to hurt you or not."

"But they just want to put me in a lab?" she looked confused, "But it might explain why I am…"

"Evelyn, honey," Phil held her hand, "If they put you in a lab, you won't be able to go to class with your friends or play like you want. They wouldn't even let me see you for long periods of time. Maybe someday we will find a way to figure out why you are special but… I want you to have a real childhood. I want you to be able to play and have fun."

He bit his lip to keep from spilling more. If he was to be perfectly honest, that was why he held on tightly to Evelyn eight years ago in New Mexico. She deserved to be a child and not a lab rat. Nothing had changed between now and then, in that respect at least.

"Are they gonna come and get me?" she whispered, wringing her little hands.

"I won't let them," said Phil while he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close to his chest, "I will do everything to keep you safe. But if I am going to do that, we're going to need to hide away from them."

"We're going far away?"

"Not far, just across town."

"That's not bad."

"You can go to the same school," assured Phil, "and you won't have to change your name again."

"I guess that is a good thing," muttered Evelyn, rubbing her arm a bit and looking down, "But… do we have to?"

"Yes," said Phil softly, "Yes or else they will keep coming. We will never be free unless we get away now."

He didn't want to scare her like this. She said she was fine, but he knew better when she had the gold man dream again that night. Over the next few weeks, there was a good deal of preparation for the move. The dreams didn't abate. Every time, Phil felt guilt corkscrew a little more deeply into his chest. She awoke from hard-won sleep on the day of their special appointment.

"Where's the Cleaning Lady?"

"This way." Phil held out his hand to her in the lobby of the building he had visited years previously. The building was almost unchanged except the mural on the ceiling was updated. He wished he didn't have to come back but he needed to see if the Cleaner could erase Evey from AIM's database. The elevator doors opened to her special floor, the miles and miles of bookshelves the same as ever. "And don't call her the cleaning lady, thats rude. She's Agent Brandford."

"Mr. Carlton?" a raspy voice inquired.

Evelyn immediately hid her face behind Phil's legs at the voice. Funny, that was more or less his reaction the first time he met her. Phil chuckled, taking Evelyn by the hand and led her over to Elsa's desk. As she promised all those years ago, she had barely changed a bit. Her barn-owl face considered him with dark, unblinking eyes.

"You're on time for once," she mused going over the file on her desk, " I understand you are having difficulties with a research lab hounding you?"

"Yes. They-"

She cut him off with a clipped, "Director Fury has updated me on the situation. I have my IT Team on it now." She handed him the extended file with all the data of their current and former identities. He opened it and made sure to hide the obituaries from his daughter, who looked at the file curiously.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing at something.

"Your updated information. Your personal information stays the same, but your address has been updated along with your contact information. It should be enough to lose you in a city as large as New York. And on top of that, we laid a few false trails. If they bother to chase them down to the end, they will find it a pretty fruitless endeavor."

"And you're able to get rid of AIM's data on her just like that?" Phil asked cautiously.

"We have been very fortunate. Because of their extended networking with schools and other institutions, we are able to maneuver our way inside their system using a few weak holes and stage a little, ah, digital accident. Nothing too serious, nothing to cause lasting damage. But several of their files will be, shall we say, unusable. It's so much easier to dispose of data now than in the old days. There were a few missions where we had to resort to arson to get the job done cleanly."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that last part," chuckled Phil but his professional curiosity was piqued, "How far does their network go? Who all is involved?"

"According to my little internet minions, it's quite extensive," explained Elsa, "They have a pretty wide net across schools and some businesses."

"Do you happen to have a list of those schools?"

"Of course. I'll e-mail it to you."

"How much do we know about AIM, overall?" inquired Phil.

"Not much," said Elsa, leaning on her desk with one elbow, "All we know is what you have told us and the little bit we have picked up by snooping through their system."

"What do we know about the guy who visited me?"

"What was his name?"

"He didn't leave a name, but he looked like a punk."

Bradford examined him over her steely-framed glasses, "As in a literal member of the punk subculture or as a colloquial term for a goon?"

"Sort of both."

She leaned back, crossing her arms across her chest, "I'm afraid I can't help you much. We really weren't looking for any information to that effect. And in any case, we would technically need a search warrant if ever we were going to use it."

"I'm not saying we should use it. I mean, other than being creepy they haven't done anything wrong. I'm just saying we should find it. We should know who and what we are dealing with."

"I'll see what my little IT minions find, but I make no promises," she said noncommittally, "I thought it was the spy's job to do the information gathering. I just make sure you don't get yourself killed."

"Well, we need help too," he closed up the file and tucked it into his briefcase. The last of the loose ends was tied off.

"Oh, and Coulson," she smiled at him softly under her beaky nose and pinched glasses, "I'm not one to say 'I told you so,' but I did say you would be back."

Phil wanted to smile but he couldn't quite conjure it up. His confidence was definitely knocked down a peg. In the end, she would be better off. As they drove to their new home, he decided it was well worth the blow to his pride.

The new apartment was a bit bigger than the last one. There were wide windows in the living room that let in plenty of light and made the whole room glow bright gold with late afternoon light. Right now, it was empty but soon it would fill up with furniture and other trappings of everyday life. Evelyn wandered around the large space, clutching her Captain America doll close to her chest. She fiddled with the little leather boots as she explored the corners of the new space. Finally, she managed to work her way around to her own bedroom. The walls were ivory with built-in bookshelves painted a pale blue. She hurried over to Phil and smiled up at him.

"Papa, my bed is here."

"Yes it is," smiled Phil, watching as Evelyn put Cap in his customary spot, his tiny thread smile and mismatched eyes poking out from between the pillows."I made sure you would sleep in your own bed tonight."

She hugged him close, "Thank you Papa."


	12. pt1 ch 12: Zippity Zappity Boo

"Evey, do you want to go to to California for vacation this year?"

"Why California, Dad?"

"I have to go to San Bernadino next week for some work," explained Phil, "But… I happened to get my hands on Disneyland passes. For three days."

She bounced in her seat with happiness, "Really?"

"I have everything arranged. We'll leave right as I finish with stuff for work."

She practically jumped onto him, arms flung around his shoulders, "Really? Papa! This is _amazing!_ I can't wait to go!"

The week went by way too slowly for either of their tastes. Evelyn had packed almost three days before she needed to. Her bags sat by the door, eagerly awaiting the special day. Evelyn couldn't stop talking about everything she wanted to see and do.

"Emmy at school told me everything there is to know about Disneyland," she proudly proclaimed over breakfast one day, "We have to go on Splash Mountain and she says you have to sit in the second to front seat if you want to get wet. We also need to go get Dole whips. She says they are the most amazing thing. And we have to go on the Indiana Jones ride. I know it is going to be super busy because it just opened but we _have to go._ Nobody else at school has seen it before."

"Nothing about the mouse that started it all?"

"We have to get a photo with him, but I really want that pineapple whip thing and go solve the mysteries of the temple of doom." Phil's hand twitched at the sound of Doom being mentioned. Despite the debacle being seven years ago, he still had flashbacks.

"Well, tomorrow," smiled Phil, "I'll pick you up from school at noon and we'll catch a quinjet flight with Maria. Once work is done, we are free to head off to the happiest place on earth."

"I get out of school early," she giggled, squirming impatiently in her seat, " _I can't wait!_ "

They took a quinjet flight out to the West Coast armory and dry dock. It was an exciting time. The old helicarriers were going to be delegated to security operations while the new fleet took to the skies for remote ops. However, Phil leaned on Nick long enough that he appropriated one of the old helicarriers for recruit flight camp and remote ops training. All it needed was a bit of a touch-up and better internet.

Evelyn's eyes widened as she took in the massive ship sitting in the dry dock. Dozens of agents worked like a swarm of ants to put together the new components of the ship. Flashes of light burst forth from welding torches and scaffolding up and down the sides of the ship sparkled with fresh paneling and wet paint.

"Wow!"

"Yeah, It is pretty amazing," smiled Phil, proud of his work.

"Can I go for a ride?"

Phil ruffled his daughter's hair so the fluffy bits stuck up in the back. She squirmed, wiggling out of his grasp with a laugh, "Maybe once it is finished. You can help me set up my office."

"You have an office? In that?" she asked smoothing down her hair.

"Yup. It's over on the other side, toward the top," he pointed in the general direction, "You and I will check it out later."

"Cool."

A group of agents smiled and held their arms open to Evelyn as she drew near for an embrace. The young agents liked having her around, she reminded them of their own daughters, sisters, and nieces at home who they didn't get to see as often as they liked. They had dozens of questions for her and she drank up the attention.

"Are you doing sports in school, Evey?"

"I bet she would be the best," laughed another agent.

"I would be in sports if _he_ ," she playfully socked her father in the arm, "would let me."

"There are very good reasons why I can't allow that," replied Phil diplomatically.

"Mostly because I would win."

Phil nodded, "By a landslide. You don't need to prove anything. You are perfect as you are."

Phil grabbed her around the waist tickling her slightly, smiling as she giggled. Maria smiled at the small family as they roughhoused. It was very bizarre to think that she would be eleven years old in just a few months. It wouldn't be long before she was a teenager and, oh, wouldn't that be something to see?

"Phil," interrupted Maria, "We have work to do."

Phil put his daughter down, planting a kiss on her forehead. Evelyn wiped it away but smiled all the same, "Daaaaaaaaaaaaad!"

"Wait here, Evey," he requested, "Maria and I need to take care of one or two things. We will come and get you when we're done. Go ahead and work on your homework."

"Okay," she smiled, sitting down on one of the crates that she had leaped onto.

"If you need help, Maria will be back to help you out."

She nodded, pulling her folders from her backpack. If Phil didn't know any better, he would say she enjoyed doing her homework. Not that he was complaining. Her science and math scores were good, English and history were acceptable, all in all a decent student. If he was being brutally honest, her report cards were much better than his were when he was her age. But nobody needed to know that.

"What do we have here?"

"Medical supplies and testing materials," said an agent, handing him the clipboard, "Requisitioned by Doctor Hawthorne for recruit medical testing."

"Sounds fine to me," sighed Phil as he signed off. It was all just formality, really. This was all creating a paper trail for the bean counters. Medical equipment was one of the few things that the higher-ups didn't scream over… much.

"Alright," he said, walking over to the cargo plane, "Bring it around. Let's get this thing unloaded. Agent Carter, can you bring the crane over here?"

"Sir!"

"Let's be careful here, people," he said to all those assembled, "We don't want anyone hurt. If someone says 'stop,' drop what you are doing and stop. We clear?"

"Yes, sir!" The assembled group responded in almost perfect unison.

Phil nodded, "Okay, let's get the boxes unloaded."

Despite the crane acting up a bit in the beginning everything seemed like it was going well. The hydraulics were sluggish and not particularly well maintained. It was secondhand, like most of the things associated with the project. Either that or he would blow his entire budget on startup costs. He'd rather beg Nick to use the old stuff than beg the budget committee for new stuff. Either way involved groveling, but he maintained a bit more of his dignity this way.

"Last batch," someone called, "Coulson, you need to move your cactus baby. She's sitting on the last of the crates."

Phil tried to hold back rolling his eyes. There was no way of knowing all those years ago that the stupid name Nick made for Evelyn would become popular jargon. It amazed him that it stuck around for so long.

"Evey, stand back over there with Maria, we need that crate," instructed Phil, "I don't want you to get hurt by one as we move it."

Evelyn glanced up from her work, she huffed her frizzy bangs out of her face and looked a little mad to have to move. Reluctantly she shoved her work in her bag and jumped off the crate and went to where Maria was. She murmured something to which Maria smiled. They walked off to the side, sitting on some stacked boxes. Phil smiled as Evelyn held up her notebook and Maria scribbled something with a pen. There was a chance that Maria was helping her spell-check. More likely, they were drawing caricatures of their fellow agents.

"Hey!" someone yelled. Phil turned.

The crane groaned, hydraulics protesting under strain. Metal screeched against metal as the long arm of the crane swung down toward the stacked pyramid of metal crates. The agent operating the machine managed to swing the arm over so it wouldn't hit any of the people ducking for cover but in the process, the two couple of crates tilted ominously towards Phil.

"Clear out!" he yelled, waving his arm to get the other agents far away from the falling materials. He turned, too late. Not knowing what else to do, he flung himself out of the way to avoid most of the crate, narrowly preventing himself from getting smashed into the ground like an ant under a boot.

"Papa!" Evelyn screamed, watching the metal crate fall down with a loud bang, fighting against Maria's arms, "No, Papa!"

The crate caught him across the back, pitching him face-first toward the concrete floor. Pain shot up his arm. Something cracked. He tried to wiggle his trapped arm out from under the crate but it hurt too badly. So he lay still, trying to catch his breath and figure out his next move through the haze of pain. His shoulder was probably fractured. It certainly hurt that badly. More than that, he worried about his daughter, seeing him like this. She was crying loudly, her sobs echoing around the room as Maria was no longer able to contain her and the little girl started rushing toward him, screaming.

It might have been Phil's imagination but it almost looked like the lights around the room flickered very slowly and deliberately. Maria turned to grab another agent's radio to report the incident since hers didn't want to turn on, but his didn't work either. The lights very obviously blinked again… and then a third time. Each flicker got progressively longer. The weight shifted off his arm suddenly. He groaned loudly, realizing that Evelyn just flung the crate off of him. He wanted to scold her for not being careful but the words rang disingenuous in his own thoughts.

Suddenly, the whole room went dark. Blue light appeared out of nowhere, spiralling around his injured shoulder like will-o-wisps before sinking through his jacket sleeve and into his skin. His arm felt warm but pleasantly so. He groaned as her hands seized his injured shoulder. The heat and prickling sensation along his skin grew more intense as Evelyn held on. It seemed like the whole world went quiet, save for Evelyn's choking sobs.

Suddenly, his shoulder went cold. The lights were skittering around his arm and shoulder but less so now. Gingerly, he lifted himself up on his uninjured arm and then put a bit of weight on the shoulder that was previously hurt. Phil almost fell back to the ground when he realized he wasn't in pain. The lights above flickered back to life flooding the room with light.

"Evey," he said, putting his arms around the sobbing girl, "Evelyn, it's okay. I'm fine. I'm sorry for scaring you. I'm going to be fine."

"Papa…" she wouldn't stop crying until after Phil had half-carried, half-dragged her out of the hanger and sat with her for a very long time in the command office. She was still sniffling when he finally gathered up the courage to ask the question that was nagging at him.

"Evelyn, did you see the blue lights?"

"The fairy lights?"she asked wiping her cheeks with her purple cardigan sleeve.

Phil couldn't believe he was saying the words but he did so anyway, "Yes, Evey, the fairy lights."

"I saw them."

He nodded, "Have you seen anything like that before?"

"Yeah."

Phil felt like he had been kicked in the chest. He wasn't expecting that. "When?"

"I was," she sniffled a bit before continuing, "I was working on homework and I got a paper cut. But then the fairy light appeared and it didn't hurt anymore."

"Why do you call them fairy lights?"

"I dunno. They look like the fairies in Fantasia."

He closed his eyes, trying to dismiss things as a bad dream or some side effect of shock. These sort of things didn't happen in real life: fairy lights, magical healing, and little girls able to drain the electricity from a room. But it was an undeniable fact. She was able to, somehow, manipulate electricity. She gathered it up and used it to heal him. It didn't make sense but he couldn't deny what he saw in front of his eyes.

Maria headed over overhearing the exchange between them. She shot a very obvious, very concerned look at Phil before escorting them into the makeshift medical office.

Doctor Adrian Hawthorne was brand-new resident doctor for SHIELD recruitment and operations. However today he was on site to monitor inventory needed to be replenished on the carrier. Phil had first met him back in a clinic in Livermore, California on Anita's recommendation. A doctor with textbook knowledge of mutations and an eidetic memory was exactly the sort of person SHIELD wanted on their side.

"I can't find anything wrong with your arm," said Dr. Hawthorne as he examined the X-ray from the bottom part of his bifocals, "There is a visible spot where the bone has been broken but it looks like it happened a while ago."

"I haven't had a broken bone in seventeen years up until just today."

"I saw the crate fall on his shoulder and heard it snap," said Maria severely, pointing down at the offending limb, "You can't tell me there isn't some kind of damage."

Dr. Hawthorne held his hands up defensively, slapping the x-ray up against the backlighting, "Look for yourself. There is no break. If there was, you would be in a lot more pain than you are, I can promise you."

Maria waited until the doctor left to finish inventory then she turned to Phil, "Nick is going to want to know about this."

"I know."

Phil sighed and came out of medical. He saw where Evelyn sat on a bench outside the office, working on a math packet. At least now she wasn't glowing. He ran his hands through her hair finding comfort in the motion. Despite her ever growing abnormalities she was his and it was his duty to give her the best he can when it came to being a father. This included protecting her and give her a somewhat normal life.

"You ready to blow this popsicle stand, Hon? Pretty sure Mickey is waiting for us."

An hour of traffic later Phil had her hand in his as they entered the park. The smell of vanilla and fried foods filled the air along with the air of excitement and anticipation. He wrapped his arm around her as she laughed, running from place to place. They stopped by City Hall so she could get a first visitor pin to wear on her shirt and the emporium for an autograph book and a pair of Minnie Mouse ears. Phil caved and bought one for himself as well. They took photos, went on rides and tried various foods. Both of them took solace in illusion of being completely normal even if it was only for the afternoon.

However it only lasted so long. Once they made their way over to Tomorrowland, Phil noticed his daughter become more excited, eyes shimmering with light and her cheeks darkened to a bright, healthy pink. At first he thought it was because of Star Tours and her giggling, girly crush on Harrison Ford. After a minute, he noticed that Tomorrowland was full of electricity. His theory of her ability to manipulate electricity literally came to light when they were on the People Mover. It gave a tour of the land but the track also ran indoors and was quite dark at times.

In the darkness, he noticed something strange about Evelyn. A spider web network of ethereal blue light criss-crossed her skin. It concentrated, darkening around her eyes into pools of mystic light. Her fingerprints popped out of her dark skin and her nails cast faint flickers of light around the walls of the ride. It looked like someone carved part of the night sky out of the heavens and formed it into a little girl.

"Hey there, Sparkles," he joked, poking at her arm. The nerves rippled with blue light, shooting up her arm and disappearing into her hair.

Evelyn shot him a look, "Sparkles?"

"Look down."

She finally seemed to notice her glowing nails. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of her shimmering form. Her mouth formed words but she appeared to be too shocked to say anything.

"Sweetie, are you, uh, drawing power from the rides?"

"Whu…" She looked up at him "I dunno. I wasn't trying. I swear!"

Phil smiled, taking her hand in his. He spoke with a firm, but gentle voice, "I need you to try and stop doing that."

"Okay Papa, I'll try," she fidgeted.

"Pinky swear?"

Removing her hand from his she extended her pinking and twirled it around his. Her nails already dimming.

"I promise."

They went home to the hotel after the evening fireworks. Evelyn was all tuckered out from a long day of fun and magic. She did a good job of keeping her glow to a minimum but it seemed like she was running out of spark anyway because as she fell asleep, her sparkling glow dimmed to a barely-visible haze under her was the first time he really had to sit and think about everything that happened. What had his life become? As if having a super-strong daughter wasn't enough, now this? What even was _this_?

It wasn't easy for him to get to sleep. Eventually the sleeping pills did their job and knocked him out for the count. When he finally woke up, it became pretty apparent that he already knew who to call. Dragging the corded phone into the bathroom and locking the door, he dialed the now familiar number as Evelyn slept in, dreams of princesses and spaceships in her head.

"Hello. Anita?"

"Speaking."

"It's uh...Phil. Phil Coulson. Uh, I mean Carlton." he swore mentally at himself.

"Is everything okay Phil?"

"I, uh... It's…"

"Phil, what's up?"

"I have a question about mutations and it… it relates to my daughter."

"Your daughter?"

"Yes." he said in defeat. "Listen do you have any data regarding children who exhibits signs before their teen years?"

Anita paused for a moment before speaking, "It's unusual for the mutant gene to manifest before puberty but it does happen from time to time. We call them changelings. They are very, very rare but the results are often very powerful or more volatile than the average mutant. You have to be careful because early manifestation sometimes indicates that secondary mutations will kick in."

"So, mutations on top of mutations?"

"More or less."

"How do you know one way or another?"

"Well," said Anita, "To start, you need to confirm that she is actually a mutant. You can test for the X-gene at any clinic or hospital with a decent lab. I can email you a list."

"If... it isn't a mutation, what could it be?"

She paused for a long time at the other end of the line, "I'm not sure. Those are far more extraneous circumstances. It really doesn't happen in nature. Most occur in a laboratory conditions, such as with the Fantastic Four. We should check for the mutant gene first since it is the most likely and then elaborate from there."

"So," Phil rubbed his forehead, "Where is the best place to go? I guess that is what I am asking for at the end of the day."

"Where are you now? I know you said before that you were moving."

"Still in New York. We're just over in Brooklyn now."

"Well," she said, a flurry of keystrokes audible across the line, "Xavier's School for Special Youngsters is in North Salem. That's not terribly far away. If you want the best of the best, that's where you can go. There is nowhere better in the entire country. If you want, and only if you want, I can call ahead to let them know about your case."

"Is there a place I can pick up some literature about it? That way, Evelyn can decide if this is what she wants to do."

"I'll send what I have to you."

Phil pulled out his clunky laptop and waited for the internet to connect. He felt like he could be honest with Anita about his daughter since it was becoming more difficult to hide her remarkable nature.

"I know I mentioned that she is adopted," explained Phil, "But I actually don't know anything at all about her birth parents."

"Closed adoption?"

"Well," Phil laughed nervously, "Look, I know this sounds strange. I found her in the middle of the desert in New Mexico when I was there for work. I don't really know all that much about how she ended up there or where she was before. I don't even really have a proper birth certificate for her. So I'm not sure if I can even find her birth parents."

Anita sighed from the other end of the line, "Unfortunately, it isn't all that uncommon for children tested for mutations to be put up for adoption or even abandoned or aborted. Some parents don't want to deal with the _burden_ of a child with special abilities."

Phil noted the venom in her voice upon saying the word 'burden.' He cleared his throat and continued, "That's horrible."

"I know," sighed Anita, "It is a very grand thing of you to take Miss Evelyn in. But without a birth certificate, the search is going to go cold very fast. I'll do what I can to help, but I don't know what we will find, if anything."

"Well," sighed Phil, determination settling in his stomach, "Let's see what we can do for her."

"What about you?"

"Huh?"

"I know that this is a lot to take. Most parents are really… unprepared when their kid starts developing mutations. So, how are you handling it?"

Phil paused, "I don't know. It's all a shock. Things are still sort of settling in. When she was just stronger and taller than everyone else, I could give her a safe place to express her strengths and she wouldn't have to do it in public where people would hurt her or judge her. Now, I don't know. I don't even know how to start addressing this."

"Hey," Anita cut into his panic, soothing it over with her voice, "We'll figure it out. Nobody knows what to do at first. But we'll help her, both of us. And I'm here for you."

Phil smiled. It was the first time in the past day that he actually felt relaxed, like the world wasn't about to fall apart at his feet. He heard Evelyn start to stir in the next room and realized he needed to wrap this conversation up before she became suspicious.

"Okay. We can do this."


	13. Pt 2 ch 1: Mutantmatium

"PAPA!"

Phil heard the scream and jumped out of his desk to run frantically to his daughter. He knocked on the bathroom door, pleading to be let in. Evelyn was screaming on the other side of the door.

"Evey! Evey! Are you alright?"

Finally the latch clicked open and every father's worst nightmare stood before him. Crimson blood was smeared across Evelyn's hand and still more stained her jeans. Her eyes were red, puffy, swollen from crying.

"Papa," she whimpered.

"What happened?" he grabbed her shoulders firmly to try to settle her.

"I-I… I think I started my period."

"Oh…"

She blinked, more tears pouring from her eyes, "Oh? _Oh_?"

"You scared me! I… thought you were really hurt," muttered Phil, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. It was her period. There was nothing more innocuous than that. Or, that's what he was thinking before he saw the sheer amount of blood staining her pants.

"What do I do?" she asked in alarm, her voice getting higher in pitch with each word. Her reddened eyes squinting at him, asking questions he didn't have answers for.

"I-I don't know…" he stammered, trying to take in the sheer amount of blood. In his experience, when people lost that much blood at once, they needed medical attention.

Evelyn's face changed and Phil felt a wave of dry heat hit him full in the face, like sticking his head in an oven, "Oh my God, Dad, GET OUT!"

"What?"

"Out!" she ordered, slamming the bathroom door behind him.

"Evelyn, do not slam the doors," ordered Phil sternly as he turned to find a phone and call for backup. As he turned, he saw something fall into the floor out of the corner of his eye. The ceramic lamp on the end table nearest the bathroom slumped into a folded mess like it was made of Play-Dough.

"Jesus…"

He could hear Evelyn's panicked sobbing on the other side of the door. Not knowing what else to do, he called a familiar number and prayed he would receive help.

"Phil?" Maria answered the phone.

"Maria!"

"Yes…?"

"Oh my God, Maria, she started her period and I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Evelyn is completely panicked. _She melted the table lamp_!"

"It's easy, you go and buy pads or something," she said from the other end of line, slightly annoyed.

"Maria, I am terrified of the feminine… products aisle. There are fifty thousand varieties of pads and I don't know which one to get!"

He could almost hear the sound of her rolling her eyes through the phone line. A rush of static indicated a sigh of defeat as she spoke, "Is Evey there with you?"

"No, she's crying in the bathroom. I can't get her to leave. She's trying to keep it together and not melt any more appliances. I didn't know what to do!"

"First things first, go and pick up the biggest tub you can find of rocky road ice cream."

"That's not funny," frowned Phil.

"I am not joking."

In response Phil quickly gathered into his car and may have ran some red lights to assist his teenager. The cashier raised a quizzical eyebrow at the amount of ice cream and pads he dropped at the check out counter. Phil crossed his arms and frowned, sparing no time for the judgement of the zit-faced bag boy. He was a father on a mission! Upon arriving at their apartment he noticed the door was unlocked and Maria's keys were on the bar.

"Maria! I don't know what to do!" He yelled running down the hall to the bathroom, carrying a large bag full of every variety of pad available in one arm and a gallon of softening rocky road ice cream in the other. She planted a hand in the middle of his chest and stared at him with stern eyes. Phil was alarmed at the severity of her face. She didn't even blink!

"For starters," she said clearly and slowly, "You need to calm down. You are panicking her by running around and freaking out." he relaxed and she continued, "Put the ice cream in the freezer. I'll coach her through it."

He did as he was told. Attempting to calm himself, he listened to Maria talk to his daughter. She knocked softly on the door and it creaked open. He didn't hear Evelyn crying, so it seemed like whatever Maria was doing worked.

"Just stay calm, " ordered Maria, kneeling next to Evelyn on the bathroom tiles, "Evey, this is normal, okay? What you are going through is nothing different than what any other woman in the world has to go through."

Evelyn wiped her running nose on her sleeve, leaving a slimy trail in its wake. Her eyes were still full of tears and more were on the way even though she tried to calm down. The giant bloodstain on her pants only pushed her and made her more scared than before. Instead, she looked off to the side and studied the bathroom wall.

"Are you okay, Evey? Keeping it together?" asked Maria, turning to stare at her in the eyes. Maria's slight sternness and tenacity was strangely comforting in the raging sea of trouble.

"I'll… I'll be fine," sniffled Evelyn, "I think… I think I'll be fine."

"You will," said Maria, "I have some pads. I also picked up a clean pair of underwear and jeans. You'll feel better when we clean you up a bit, okay?"

"Okay," shuttered Evelyn as she tried to stand up, knees still quivering with nervousness, "Okay… okay…"

The word was like a mantra, making her come back to herself. The strange energy that coursed through her veins was settling back down to previous levels. Maria pulled her into a hug and let her dry her eyes on her sweater.

"Take a shower," she said, "And then I'll show you how to use a pad, okay?"

"Okay."

"Your dad has ice cream for you when you get all cleaned up," said Maria, "It'll help, I promise."

A squeaky clean Evelyn emerged later, eyes still puffy and red with emotion. She was quiet as she ate her ice cream, shifting back and forth on her seat as she tried to adjust to the invasion in her pants.

"How are you feeling?" Asked Phil tentatively over his own bowl of ice cream.

Evelyn didn't say anything right away. Her ice cream was melted into a puddle of sugary goo in the bowl. Flecks of blue light danced along the backs of her hands and shimmered across her fingernails.

"Hurts," she put a hand on her stomach. Blue light danced along her hands and flicked against her belly. She was trying to heal her cramps. It didn't seem to be working.

"It'll do that," said Maria, "take an ibuprofen if it gets too bad. That will take care of most problems. But I think you will find you can tough it out."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. She didn't seem to want to "tough it out." Phil couldn't blame her. Chronic pain of any kind was not something you ought to mess around with.

"Do what you need to do, Evey," insisted Phil. He added another scoop of ice cream to her bowl to replace the scoop she melted. He made a mental note to double check and make sure he had painkillers stocked in the medicine cabinet.

"I'm... I'm not a little girl anymore. I mean, officially."

Phil swallowed his ice cream so hard that he received an immediate brain freeze. He pushed his tongue against the roof of his mouth to stifle the pain. It wasn't the response he was thinking he would hear. He was expecting to hear something about how cramps hurt or something else that he overheard the lady agents at SHIELD complain about.

Maria, fortunately, stepped in. "It's a part of growing up. One part of many. You... you have a lot to look forward to in life, Evey."

"It hurts," she muttered, "Is it all going to hurt?"

Oh, they were _so_ not talking about cramps anymore. When Maria told her to "tough it out," he didn't think it was going to be anything more or less than letting nasty PMS symptoms run their course. Apparently it meant more than that. Maria took her hand. Phil was mesmerized by the intensity between their eyes.

"Yes. Evey, it's going to hurt. That's how it is." She stared dead into the young girl's eyes. "But that is how you are forged. That's how you become who you are going to be."

"Who am I going to be?" she asked, her voice weak, unsure. Phil's heart broke to see her so lost.

"That's for you to discover," whispered Phil. The two women looked over at him. "Evelyn, we have complete faith that you will become something truly special. I mean, you're already special but... you will only grow from here."

A murky problem had been dragged into the light. The future felt shaky, held together by hopes and prayers. Evelyn was wading into her teenage years and where it would lead, nobody knew. He never asked, but Phil assumed even Evelyn wasn't sure exactly where she was going. The thoughts weighed heavily on his mind as he walked to Nick's office one morning.

"How's Evelyn?" asked Nick as soon as he entered.

"Director, you asked me to your office to ask about my daughter? What is this about?" He paused, then sighed at the expectant look on Nick's face. "Alright, how much has she told you?"

"Maria has been reporting to me about Evelyn since the beginning. I thought you knew this, even though you pretend you don't."

He couldn't deny that.

Nick continued, "I understand your reasons for keeping her conditions close to the vest. But, the time has come to start thinking about her future and giving her a chance to grow. She will be a great agent."

"Will be?" Phil didn't like the sound of that.

"You're kidding. It hasn't occurred to you? She has a super spy for a father and has an interesting list of talents in her own right," Nick leaned over his desk, "She just needs to learn how to use her gifts. She's untrained. She needs someone to help her better control her abilities, find out who she is and what she is. If not, she could very well become more dangerous."

"So what are you telling me to do?"

"I think you have massive separation anxiety. It's actually a little bit scary. I mean, it makes sense, she's your daughter. So she can go into the SHIELD academy or she can go to a place you choose. Those are your options."

"I'm not saying you're wrong. I'm just saying…"

"Phil." He interrupted, " This is an order." Nick's voice was even but severe.

Clenching his fist, Phil debated if he should accept this or fight it. Instinct screamed at him to fight. He had worked for too hard for too long to keep Evelyn out of the lab and give her a proper childhood, free to be a normal kid. Puberty was difficult for everyone and Evelyn was no exception. But he also couldn't deny that her new ability to project energy was difficult to keep secret and cumbersome to control.

"Fine," he conceded, "I've been… chatting with Anita anyway about her. We're going to find something. We're working on it."

"I'll need an answer," insisted Nick as he walked out.

He had been working with Anita for the past year and a half to find Evelyn's parents and dig up her past and find any sort of information regarding why she was special. It was a lot of digging with few results. The few scant leads they uncovered evaporated upon further investigation. Whoever they were, they buried Evelyn's past deep. He bitterly resented her parents, whoever they were. _How could someone give up something so precious?_

And now here he was considering it, sending her away to some lab somewhere. Maybe it would be better for her, but he felt he was betraying his promise. It kept him up at night. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. His mind flooded with every fear and worry he kept tucked away during his waking hours. It was during one of these dark nights that he came to the realization: he would always be her father. It didn't matter what she was or where she came from. He was the man who protected her, raised her, and stood up for her. This was no different. It was simply a new chapter.

And it scared the hell out of him.

He decided the weekend would be best to speak with her. That way she would be home, relaxed, and she wouldn't have to go off to school a distraught mess. Breakfast consisted of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and fresh berries. It was a lot of food but normal for Evelyn.

"We need to talk," said Phil, sliding the plate of pancakes in front of her.

Evelyn looked up, her hazel eyes wide, "Okay, Dad, that's not scary at all."

"It's nothing like that," he elaborated, "I mean, we need to talk about your future school plans. Nick was asking."

"Oh, God, what does Nick want?" she rolled her eyes.

"Well, he's been," he chose his words carefully, " _concerned_ about your _abilities._ He wants to know if you are going to do any sort of… _specialized training_."

"I thought about it," she said, "And I get it. But where can I possibly go? Who can teach me anything about… this."

"I've been looking at that, actually," he said slowly, "For some time now."

She looked up from breakfast, mouth partway full of pancake, "And you didn't think that I would want to know about this?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Evey," he interjected, "But I was going to let you know. I was planning to wait until you were eighteen, so that way it would be legally your decision to make and you would be old enough to understand the impact of your choices. But then… California happened and then the accidental melting of the lamp a few weeks ago. So, Nick made me move my timetable forward."

He hated using words like "timetable" to describe his daughter's life but he fell back on official lingo when his normal vocabulary fell short. She swallowed her pancake before speaking again. "So, is Nick trying to recruit me for SHIELD or what?"

"That's one option," said Phil, "I've had a lot of people, some better than others, asking about you over the years."

"You could have said something, told me that people wanted to pick my brain."

"Is it really so surprising?" replied Phil, "You're a very special girl and people have noticed. I wanted you to have as close to a real life as you possibly could. I wanted you to be a child, not a lab rat."

"Papa," countered Evelyn, "I want answers as much as you do. I want to know why I'm... _special_. If a lab somewhere can tell me why I'm like this then, I guess that's what I have to do."

"Is that really how you feel?"

She hesitated then looked at him,"Yes! I'm not in control. I don't feel in control and… and I'm scared. What if I really hurt someone?"

He couldn't argue. There _was_ no argument. He excused himself to go to the home office and gather up what he had. He wanted to have a say in where she went. It took most of the day to gather what he had for Evelyn and put it in neat little folders.

Later that afternoon, Evelyn slumped on the couch waiting for the tea kettle to finish boiling. Phil watched her from across the room, gathering his files and laying them in front of her on the coffee table. He poured them both Mint tea with honey and served it to her. He had files for several relevant organizations. They went through the options together.

"I don't trust AIM," opened Phil, "I don't know much about them but the agents who have dropped by make me itch. They're creepy and overly aggressive. They're the reason we moved a lot when you were a child. I have a better lab option for you, if you are willing to consider it."

He handed her a folder with the SHIELD emblem across the front. Evelyn flipped it open and started reading through the files inside.

"Xavier's School for Mutants?"

"Charles Xavier and his staff lead up one of the best labs in the country," said Phil, "They are the forefront of genetic research of all kinds. They have techniques and abilities available which I can't access in SHIELD. Stark Industries and Reed Richards have advanced science labs for engineering and research but they don't hold a candle to Xavier's as far as genetics are concerned."

"Do you think I'm a mutant?"

"I don't know," admitted Phil, he turned on the sofa and leaned his head so he could look Evelyn in the eyes from her nestled spot among the pillows, "And it doesn't matter if you are. You will still be my daughter. Nothing can change that."

Evelyn smiled a little bit, "Thank you, Papa. I guess... I'll think about this."

"Take all the time you need, Honey. Just let me know what your decision is."

She read the file while he read the paper. Actually he observer her as he skimmed the Times editorial section, purely for research purposes.

"Do mutations run on your side of the family or my mom's?"

Phil swallowed, trying to dodge the question, "I'm not sure."

"You must have met my mom at some point in time to um…." she coughed and sipped her tea awkwardly. She didn't need to finish the sentence.

He took a deep breath, "No."

He paused not sure how to go about telling his daughter the truth. He dreaded this day and had been doing everything in his power to avoid it. Putting the paper down, he took her hand.

"It's been hard," sighed Phil, "We, as in Anita from work and I, have tried to find information about you and your birth parents but there's been nothing. It's literally like you fell out of the sky."

The last parts were the hardest for him to say, but it was out there, his daughter knew the truth. She stared at him, and slowly removed her hand from him. It scared him. He wanted to reach out and grab her hand back.

"I'm adopted?"

"Yes sweetie. I also wanted to wait and tell you that when you were a little older. I…"

He didn't know what to say, he was frightened that he would lose her, he had to protect her. He looked away, blinking back tears. There were a million reasons he did what he did but he couldn't find the words to give her the answers she deserved. "I love you and tried my best to give you a normal life...I don't want to… lose you."

She shoved the file onto the table and hugged him. Tears flecked her eyes.

"Papa, I love you too. Please don't cry."

They held each other for awhile and he rocked her back and forth. Her arms were warm on his shoulders, the weight keeping him grounded in reality. She ended the embrace, wiping her eyes. Phil didn't feel ready to let her go but then he would never feel ready to let her go.

"I'm going to go look these files over…" she said heavily standing up.

"Okay sweetie. If you need any-"

"I'll come ask you." she smiled grabbing the file and heading towards her room.

Phil watched her go to her room and partially closed the door. He was somewhat relieved of what had occurred but he needed a drink. He was relieved but also a bit empty inside. He pulled a beer bottle from the fridge and knew that alcohol wasn't going to help relieve the empty feeling but he could relax and maybe not freak out about Evelyn's future. He could stay distracted for a little while longer.

Phil was back in the kitchen starting dinner when she emerged from her room. He had managed to consume two beers, finish laundry, mop and finish a recruitment report in trying to avoid the stress and conflict that had occurred earlier. She lazily tossed the files onto the coffee table in the living room and made her way over to him. She wrapped her arms around his middle and leaned on him while he stirred the meat for tacos.

"Feeling better?"

She grumbled something into his back causing him to laugh. At least it wasn't a negative answer.

She pulled away, "Dad will you hate me if I don't join the SHIELD academy?"

"Of course not, I could never hate you." He turned towards her, "Ever. For any reason."

"In that case, I think...Xavier's school would be best." she avoided looking at him.

Phil internally relaxed, thankful she didn't choose AIM. "Out of curiosity, why did you choose Xavier's?"

"I thought SHIELD would be good for learning control, but if I could learn that at Xavier's along with figuring out if I'm a mutant or not. Might as well kill two birds with one stone."

Phil nodded in agreement with her and she smiled, looking somewhat relieved. He wrapped an arm around her, "I'll let Anita know on Monday."


	14. pt 2 Ch 2: Bird's Eye View

For all his years of training and all his experience in the field, Phil could not open a car door with his foot. Not for lack of trying. Some stubborn part of him always insisted it was possible. Perhaps the best time to test his theory was not when he was juggling two bags of groceries and trying not to break the eggs or drop the milk. Sighing, he set down the heavier bag and opened the car door with his hand like a normal person. He probably looked rather foolish flailing his foot in the dark trying to get the toe of his shoe under the flap of metal.

Lola: 1, Phil: 0

For now.

He paused in his mental assessment of the situation when something flickered in his peripheral. Training kicked in as he nestled the groceries in the backseat and closed the door soundlessly. He held his keys between his fingers just in case he needed to defend himself quickly.

A shadow moved between the cars of the grocery store, low and skittering. Based on the shape and size, Phil figured it as a kid, early teenage years. He was probably looking for a car to steal and he wasn't being particularly subtle. The shadow settled on a silver Lincoln just out of the glow of the streetlight. Phil watched as he shrugged a large bag off his shoulder and pulled a long, thin object out. It took him a second to wiggle the object in a gap in the window. Phil crept nearer, trying to look casual and not draw attention to himself.

Fortunately, the kid was too deep in concentration on his work to notice him. Or so he thought. As he drew nearer, he heard the kid humming something. Phil chuckled. He was listening to a Walkman. Phil could faintly hear the snarling guitar of Nirvana blaring from the headphones. He couldn't hear anyone coming if he wanted to. Rookie mistake.

He stood just out of sight, watching the kid at work. He had messy sandy blond hair and gangly limbs. Hands and feet were too big in proportion to the rest of him. He was growing into his body but right now he was out of proportion. He wore a brace on his right wrist and there were yellowing bruises up and down his arms. It took Phil a second to realize it, but the kid was using an arrow to try to pop open the car door lock.

Points for obscure creativity.

What's more, it worked. The kid smirked, opening the car door and digging around inside. He didn't appear to be interested in stealing the car, more like looking through the cushions for loose change. He appeared to be rewarded for his efforts when he pulled out a small box of something and a handful of green bills. He tucked the money in his back pocket and the box in a large duffle bag.

Phil was close enough now, he could probably cut the kid off if he decided to bolt. He flirted with the idea of calling the cops but by the time a patrol car got here he kid could be in the next county over. It would be better to neutralize the threat quickly and easily. Chances were the kid was just looking for kicks and would crumble the instant he got caught.

"Hey!" Phil announced his presence loudly.

The boy jumped about a half mile into the air, a curse spilling from his lips as hazel - gray eyes locked with Phil's. The boy glanced left, then right, then left again before he did something Phil did not anticipate.

He strafed left and vaulted himself over the hood of the car, snagging the black duffle bag as he went. Phil didn't have time to analyze this strategy. He took off in pursuit, matching the kid's erratic zigzag patterns. The thought occurred to him that he was not a strong distance runner. He was much better over short distances, quick bursts of energy. If he didn't engage soon, he would fall behind and the kid could easily lose him in the labyrinth of dumpsters and delivery vehicles behind the Walmart. He needed a plan. Now.

It occurred to him there was a small wooded area just to the left back side of the lot. It was likely the kid would try to lose him in the dark trees and then make his way out to the highway.

Cut him off.

Phil veered left, falling back to follow the line of the fence while the kid wore himself out navigating the back lot of the store. Sure enough, as Phil jogged in front of a large semi truck backed up to the loading dock, he could hear the kid scampering through puddles. It rained earlier in the day so the air was wet and heavy. Everything had a film of rainwater on it.

Phil poked his head out as the puddle splashing grew louder. His chest heaved from running but there was too much adrenaline coursing through his veins to care right at the moment. He reached out to grab the kid but was shocked by the harsh rush of air flowing just past his nose. He instinctively ducked.

Was that a bullet which just grazed his nose? It felt like a near miss. It wouldn't be his first time dodging a bullet with his name on it. But there was no sound of a gunshot. As he stood, a thin line of filament ran at eye level, glinting in the low light.

Kid tried to clothesline him.

It was a clever idea.

If it worked.

"Heard you running!" taunted the kid, "You breathe heavy old man!"

 _Old man?_

 _Well, that was just plain uncalled for_! The games were over. Time to show his hand.

He whipped out his SHIELD badge from his inside pocket, holding it up around the box before stepping out.

"Federal agent, kid," he said, stepping out into the open, "How about we have a quick talk about what you were doing back at that car and maybe we can ignore the fact that you fired on a law enforcement officer."

It was the first time he really got a good look at the kid in proper lighting. He looked even younger than Phil originally thought as his shoulders slumped and an expression torn between fear and exasperation settled onto his face. But the oddest thing about him was the bow in his hand, perfectly nocked with a fresh arrow.

 _Well you don't see that every day._ Fair to say, that was the last thing he expected.

"Aw, hell," said the blond-haired boy, lowering his bow. "I'm..."

"Save it," ordered Phil, "Let's start by putting back what you stole. Maybe the owner hasn't noticed his personal items are gone yet."

The kid begrudgingly returned the cash and the box, which turned out held loose change, probably for the parking meters. The kid ran the risk of getting arrested for a whole twelve dollars and fifty cents. He didn't even try to take the car, which was much more valuable. Phil sat him down in Lola for his interrogation.

"Is there anything else you stole in the bag?"

"No, sir."

"Are you lying?"

"No, sir," he repeated, his voice quieter than before. Phil wondered if that was all the response he could eke out of the kid.

"What's your name?"

No response.

Phil waited.

Silence.

"Look," sighed Phil, feeling defeat creep in, "I don't want to call the cops on you. I have to get home and sitting around in the station filing a report does not sound like a good evening."

He was fibbing, of course. Stealing was wrong and it should not go without consequences. If the kid hadn't impressed him with the arrow thing, the police would already be here. He had a hunch. People don't steal a lousy twelve and a half bucks for no reason. There was much more at play here.

Nick wouldn't approve of the gears turning in his head, but the boy had some cleverness and talent. He also had just enough of a nose for trouble that he could be a fine agent. He needed training, discipline, and direction. He also needed to learn to keep his mouth shut and not get cocky. But that was exactly what academy was for. It was all he could do to hold back and investigate before making a job offer. Phil pulled out his big block of a cell phone and tossed it over to the kid sulking in the back seat of the car.

"Call someone to pick you up," he ordered. He could just run the kid home but he was curious who he would call. Home life and background were the sort of things he needed to know before attempting to recruit.

"Is this my one phone call or something?" he sassed.

"Just get someone here to pick you up. The sooner the better."

The kid sullenly took the phone and punched a number into the glowing buttons. The phone nearly rang out but was caught on the last ring.

"Hey, Barney, I'm…"

The kid rolled his eyes.

"I'm not at the police station."

" _Yet"_ was the implicit ending to that sentence.

"I'm at the Walmart and I need you to come and pick me up." Phil shot him a glare, eyes boring into the kid. He frowned and the next words were almost a whisper. "I got caught stealing from a car by a… I dunno… FBI agent or something."

The kid held the phone a good nine inches away from his ear as a loud rush of noise emitted from the speaker, raspy through the speaker. The kid's face twisted into a pained expression: eyes squeezed shut and mouth turned down into an exaggerated wince. When the noise finally stopped on the other end of the line, he tentatively returned the phone to his ear.

"I'm not in trouble, Barn, I just need to… I need to get home now," he paused, "Yeah, five minutes is fine. Yeah, I know we'll talk. I know. I _know_ we will talk."

He hung up the phone and handed it back to Phil. A pout settled across his face as he slumped back onto the leather seats. He kept his grubby Converse sneakers outside the car so Phil was relieved he wouldn't have to clean the muck off of the interiors. Not that it was a big deal, he had been intending to get Lola cleaned for some time.

"So, where are you from?"

Silence.

"Anywhere around here?"

Silence.

"I ask because you strike me as an out-of-towner."

Silence.

Phil gave up. It wasn't terribly important he knew the kid's life story just yet. The kid also probably bought into the "code of the streets." You don't snitch to law enforcement and nobody gets hurt. If that was the case, getting him to open up was going to be tricky. But, like shucking an oyster, everyone had some point where they began to open up.

A dumpy old ivory pickup with plenty of rust on the bumpers rattled into the parking lot. The tires were extremely low and the engine sounded like a belt in the engine was coughing out its last breaths. A young man stepped out of the cab. Phil guessed he was eighteen to twenty. He was blond, but a darker, dirtier blond than the kid, and a lot broader in the chest and shoulders. But their faces were similar, family resemblance ran strong.

"Hi," said the older boy, "Are you the guy who caught my brother stealing?"

"Depends," Phil turned to where the kid was sitting in the back seat of the car, "Is that him?"

The young man's face sank upon seeing the skinny kid. "Yeah, that's him."

"And you are?"

"I'm Barney. His older brother."

"Phil," he introduced, offering a hand to shake. The young man took it.

"Phil. Look, I'm sorry about all this," began Barney, "I honestly wouldn't have blamed you for calling the cops on him."

Phil cut him off, "Don't worry. I have to be getting home and this is all just easier."

"May I have a quick moment to speak with him? In private?"

"Of course," nodded Phil, "I have a phone call I need to make anyway."

Barney walked over to the car. Phil punched buttons in on his phone and pretended to be making a call as he stepped away. Meanwhile, his phone tapped into a recording system on the car so he could listen in on the conversation between the brothers.

"Again, Clint? Really?"

"Shut up, Barney," grumbled the boy. Phil now knew his name was Clint.

"This is the fourth time I've had to bail your sorry ass out. We _can't_ keep doing this."

"I said, drop it," Clint retorted, his voice weaker than before.

"What would Mom say?"

Silence.

"Look, you gotta stop. You are better than this. You are capable of much more than this. And you know it. That's what's sad." The boy groaned and there was a shuffle of the seats as he slumped down lower. Barney continued, "Mom believed that. I believe that."

"Well, Mom ain't here. Mom hasn't been here for a while. So I don't see why her opinion matters any."

"You don't really think that," insisted Barney, but his voice was quieter than before, less sure. Clint didn't respond, a sullen pout threatening to overtake his lips. Finally the older boy sighed, "C'mon. Let's get you back. Jaques is gonna be pissed at the both of us."

"Yeah, yeah," Clint's shoulders slumped. He wiped his dirty hands on his tee and adjusted the brace on his arm.

Phil turned away and pretended to be finishing up a call when he saw the two walk back over to him.

"Look, again, I'm sorry about my brother," said Barney, "He's… he's sort of fallen in with a bad crowd and making some dumb choices. I'm gonna be working with him, though. I promise it won't happen again."

Phil nodded. He heard this sort of thing before with parents or guardians of various recruits. You could practically compose a song around the lyrics: _please don't mind my son, they've made some mistakes, running with a bad group of kids, I don't understand how this could happen, we're a good family and gave them nothing but the best, again we apologize for our son's criminal record._ The melody played like a broken record.

"Just keep an eye on him," said Phil, trying not to betray his professional interest in the kid just yet. At the same time, he didn't want to be too hard on him. "I'm sure it will be fine."

Barney nodded, "I know it's not much of a thank you for your trouble but here are a couple of free tickets to the show we're putting on this weekend."

Phil thanked him and watched the older brother drag Clint out by the scruff of his neck out to their truck. The agent stood with pen and paper waiting so he could jot down the license plate number on their car. He had a bit of research to do.

The car was registered to Barney Barton. A few quick searches called up a criminal record for Clinton Barton. Phil read through the slew of petty crimes: shoplifting, breaking and entering, and theft. Nothing violent, thank God. That bow and arrow must have been a one-time thing. All his discipline went through the juvenile system. The earliest of these occurred when he was eleven, five years ago.

He seemed more content to take what he could and run rather than risk putting himself in danger for a few dollars more. Judging on the state of their truck, he couldn't help but wonder if poverty may be a contributing factor. If they worked for the circus, they couldn't be all that wealthy.

He ran a search for the circus tickets Barney gave him. Touring group, based out of some small town outside of Des Moines. They did feature a trick arrow performance but the feature photo didn't look anything like the kid. Maybe he was archer-in-training? He was good enough to lead the act if that little trick in the parking lot was any indication. He closed his laptop to see Evelyn slouched across the couch, writing dutifully in her diary.

"Evelyn, how do you feel about going to the circus?"

"Uh," she looked, tucking the notebook under the couch pillow so Phil couldn't see the pages clearly. "It could be fun. Why do you ask?"

"Long story short, I got some tickets for tomorrow night. The circus doesn't come around often so it you want to go, you have a rare chance."

"Sure," she shrugged one shoulder, "so, what's the long story? Something with work? Recruiting the acrobats?"

"Nothing like that," he shrugged as he retreated into the kitchen to pull out leftovers for dinner. "You know we could always do something not work related. I mean, it wouldn't be as much fun but it is always an option."

No it wasn't.

He was lying.

To be fair, that was not his intention going in. He promised himself he was going to go and just observe and enjoy the show with his daughter. If he could do a bit of data gathering, all the better. He saw the kid as they walked in from the parking lot. He was leaned up against an old camper with a flirty smile directed at a circus girl dressed mostly in sequins and feathers.

Oh, to be sixteen again.

Phil didn't draw attention to himself. Instead, he ushered Evelyn into the tent, keeping his head low. He bought her cotton candy, pinching a few tufts of pink fluff off for himself. He couldn't eat too much or he became giddy. Evelyn's teenage metabolism consumed everything quickly and with no ill effect. Phil had to shake his head every time. Eventually there would come a day when that youthful metabolism faltered and the inevitable panic of aging would set in.

But not too soon.

The first couple of acts were pretty impressive acrobatics and trapeze performances. The limber athletes flew through the air. It was all quite daring and remarkable. The elephants started to parade out when Phil felt the call of nature and excused himself to find a restroom. A friendly usher pointed him toward the restroom under the bleachers.

After finishing nature's business, Phil tried to navigate his way back through the wooden scaffolding under the bleachers. Somewhere high above, a scratching noise caught his attention. He looked up. Clinging to the scaffolding was the blond haired boy, Clint, reaching up between the seats. His legs wrapped around the posts, holding him up. His hands were busy, reaching through the gap in the bleachers and relieving distracted persons of their wallets.

Phil chuckled to himself and then spoke up, "You know, we keep meeting under the most peculiar circumstances."

The boy froze, closing his eyes and sighing darkly. Busted.

"You following me, old man?"

"Okay, enough with the 'old man' stuff," insisted Phil, "I'm forty-two, not dead."

"Whatever!"

Silence descended between them. The air only punctuated by the gasps and applause of the audience above them. Phil waited to see what the kid was going to do and when it became apparent that he was satisfied to wait it out until Phil went away, he spoke up.

"You going to put those back or do I have to do something about that?"

"What are you going to do?" he scoffed.

"I could go up there and make you."

The kid puffed out his chest in confidence, "I would _love_ to see you try."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," replied the kid, daring Phil to go on.

Phil walked around the scaffolding. It was made of a dark hardwood, maybe a bit worn from age but obviously sturdy enough to hold the entire audience. The metal brackets holding the crossbeams seemed in good condition. This would be easy, like running the obstacle course back in training camp. He grasped the lowest beam and pulled himself up. From there it was a simple matter of building up momentum and keeping an eye on where your feet landed. He smirked as he drew up level with the blond boy. His wide eyes tried to process the fact that a middle-aged man scaled the beams just as easily as he could. Phil smirked.

"So, are you going to put those back or not?"

Begrudgingly, he slipped the wallets back into their proper pockets and allowed himself to be summoned back down to ground level. A grumpy pout was becoming permanently emblazoned on his face, eyebrows drawing in at the unfairness of it all.

"You have a name, kid?"

The boy continued to stare down at his old shoes.

"Look, I don't want to keep calling you 'kid.' You aren't a kid," Phil noticed the boy perk up a bit at that. "So give me something to call you."

He continued to stare down the dirt for a second before sighing, "Clint. Clint Barton."

Phil already knew this but he also wanted Clint to have a sense of agency in his life. If Phil played his cards right, Clint was about to make a big decision. He needed to feel in control now more than ever. Perhaps, he mused, this was the first time in a while Clint had any sort of control over his life. But that was a discussion for a later time.

"Look, you are reaching the end of your options," said Phil as he folded his arms together, "You are reaching the end of the time when you'll be tried as a juvenile. Soon you will be tried as an adult and they won't be quite as nice to you. We're talking real jail time here."

The boy squirmed a bit, looking down at his hands for a moment before looking back up, the thin mask of bravado cracking under strain, "Are you trying to scare me?"

"Yes. I am trying to scare you but more importantly, I am telling the truth," said Phil, smiling warmly, "And I want to give you an opportunity."

"School?" Clint's nose wrinkled a bit.

"Not exactly," said Phil, beginning to feel as though he was onto something, "It is… specialized training."

"Military?" He perked up a bit at the idea, although it could be the bravado coming back more than anything else. Although, anything was progress at this point.

"I represent an organization called SHIELD. We are an organization that safeguards against global threats."

"Like… terrorists and stuff?"

"Yes. Different types of terrorism…"

"So, you are like CIA?"

"We are more top secret than CIA," smiled Phil, "We can't afford to be well known. If you join, and only if you want to, you will become a part of something bigger. You will do something with a deeper purpose. It's a brand new life."

Clint looked stunned, surprised. Part of him seemed to be surprised that this conversation was going on at all. Silence hung in the air like fog on a spring morning. Clint finally spoke up, "Why do you want me?"

"You are pretty damn good with a bow," smiled Phil, "Better than anyone we've seen up to this point. That's a skill we want on our side."

"Really," the boy scratched his fluffy hair, "You want a guy who deals with medieval weapons on your side?"

"You're also very clever about using that bow. You have some strategy under your belt."

"Well… yeah," admitted Clint, "Sure."

"We can also train you in other arenas: medicine, flight training, infiltration, languages, technology, engineering… whatever you want. Your life from this point forward is whatever you want it to be."

The boy sat in silence for a few long moments. Pressure wasn't good for getting recruits and Phil was more than willing to wait as long as it took for the boy to make up his mind. It had taken him nearly a week to come to his decision.

"What about the circus?"

"What about it?"

Clint blinked and started again, "Won't they miss me?"

"What do you think?" shrugged Phil, "Do you want to stay? Do you think your life will be any better than it is now?"

The boy was staring at his hands, "Not really. You know, it's fun but… You said I can learn to fly a plane?"

"Plane, helicopter, supersonic jet," smiled Phil, "Whatever you want. We need people with all kinds of skills, Clint, and if you are willing to offer something, we are willing to take it."

"Then… I guess… I'll do it."

"Good," smiled Phil as he stood, dusting straw off his pants, "Do you have your things nearby?"

"At my trailer."

"Let's go and get your things. We will begin your training first thing tomorrow."

"Right away?" the boy stood and followed him from the room, "Why?"

Phil opened the door into the outside world, "Why not? The world waits for nobody. We need people to respond right away."

"Makes sense," he rubbed his eyes tiredly and hurried off down the hall after Phil, "What would have happened if I said no?"

"We would let you go. I wouldn't hold you against your will," said Phil with a smile as he led Clint to his future.

"Really?"

"Sure. Although," Phil smirked, "We typically don't offer a spot unless we are fairly confident that our recruit will say yes."

"What about my brother?"

"What about him?"

"Will I see him again?"

Phil smiled fondly, "Going into SHIELD is not a death sentence. Many agents have families and keep in contact with them. If you want to talk to your brother and make sure he is okay with-"

"No," Clint interrupted, "I mean, I will, but I think he will be okay with things."

Phil considered him carefully for a long moment as the kid stood and brushed a fine layer of dust off of his shins. There was more to that story but he wasn't sure if he should press just yet. "If you're sure. We're not going to keep you from speaking with-"

"I'm sure," he looked up, smiled but there was no mirth in his eyes, "I'll explain things. He'll get it."

A few phone calls later and Phil was helping Clint load all of his worldly possessions into a SHIELD station wagon Maria drove over from HQ.

He stood back and watched as Clint and Barney spoke to each other. He couldn't hear the words but the older boy ruffled his brother's hair and then pulled him into a smothering hug. Clint struggled for a second and then allowed himself to be embraced. He hurriedly fixed his hair and jogged back over to Phil.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Clint said, "He's proud of me and blah blah blah… can we go now?"

"Grab your quiver and get in the van. I'll be there in a second. Need to discuss something with Agent Hill."

"Fine."

"Don't steal anything," Phil called after him as Clint scrambled off, "I'll know."

"You don't think I learned the first two times?"

"Nope." Phil held back a laugh as he walked over to Maria. She shook her head at him as he drew near. Phil just shrugged.

"You really do know how to pick 'em, don't you?" Noted Maria with a slight air of disapproval wafting in the evening air.

"If the kid doesn't have some kind of intervention, his best prospects for the future were jail or working as a carnie. Can you blame me for wanting to help and not sitting around while his talent go to waste?"

"First Evelyn, now this?"

"Speaking of Evelyn," Phil pulled the keys to Lola from his pocket, "can you drive her home when she is done here? I'll get Clint settled into a dorm and be right home. The nitty-gritty can wait to tomorrow, I think."

"She's not going to be happy with you," Maris noted. She accepted the keys anyway. She was not about to pass up a chance to drive Lola, the most perfect car ever to exist.

"I know," Phil frowned, "I feel awful about it. I'll talk to her, try to make it up somehow."

"You better be prepared to give her a puppy to make up for this," threatened Maria as she took her leave and went into the tent to find the girl.

It wasn't difficult. She was sitting alone in the upper deck. An abandoned cotton candy bag rested at her feet. Her face sank when Maria scrunched in next to her.

"Is Dad off recruiting?"

"Yup," Maria nodded, shrugging one shoulder.

"He said he wasn't." She rested her head on Maria's shoulder. "Can you stay with me and finish watching the show?"

"Sure thing," Maria said, sitting on the bench next to her and throwing an arm over her shoulder. She kept her head resting on Maria's shoulder, feeling the soft wool sweater brush against her cheek, watching the acts parade through.

The next day, Phil took Evelyn into work. She spent the majority of summer break at the SHIELD field office. Not only could she make use of the workout gear in the gym and hide away in the impressive library, it was time spent with her dad before she had to leave for Xavier's School for Special Youngsters. The date of her departure drew near, far faster than any of them anticipated. But rather than spending time together, Phil had to spent time with the new recruit.

And first impressions did not serve him well.

"That is a sweet little bit of ass right there. Are all the gals in SHIELD like that?" asked the boy in an undertone that was about as subtle as a tire iron to the kneecaps. Maria and Phil exchanged a glance before directing a disapproving stare at him.

"Maybe," said Phil indignantly turning to look him in the eyes, "But that's my daughter."

Clint paled to sheet white. His mouth flopped open and closed like a fish but nothing came out. Words escaped him but Phil wasn't taking any excuses. Evelyn heard him clearly. Determination burned in her pits of her eyes as she strode across the room to glare at him. Clint continued to flap his lips, looking for something to say right up to the moment when her fist slammed against his nose with a crack. He dropped like a rock, curling into a ball on the floor. Phil's eyebrows shot up toward his hairline before he turned to look back over at his daughter who stared him directly in the eye. There was a smear of blood on her knuckles.

"Sorry."

"Well," reasoned Phil, "Not entirely."

Half of him was proud that she stood up for herself, the other half was disappointed he didn't get a crack at Clint for that remark. It wasn't her fault, despite being a thirteen year old girl, her body had developed rapidly over the last few months, making her appear a bit older than she was. She walked away, seething with steam around her ears, disappearing into a nearby hallway to do her school reading in peace. Clint sat up after a moment, blood seeping down his face to his chin.

"Aw, shit… I think she broke my nose…"

Phil looked down at where the sixteen year old was still trying to regain his footing after having the daylights knocked out of him. "If you apologize, she might fix it for you."

"Fix it? What?"

"It's either that or explain to the infirmary how you got beat up by a little girl."

"How would she fix it? I need a doctor, not a cutie."

"She's both."

"What?" Clint felt dumbstruck for the second time in about as many minutes as he tried to staunch the blood flow using his t-shirt. A large patch of maroon stained the purple fabric. Now it was a matter of which course of action did less to hurt what little dignity he had left.

Eventually, he just began walking so as to get out of the way of Phil and the stern fatherly glare safeguarding his daughter's virtue. Not that the girl particularly needed it. She could defend herself just fine. Entering the hallway Clint saw the redhead. She was reading, the book propped up against her knees. With her free hands, she braided her hair. He tentatively stepped toward her, like a man in the middle of a minefield. "Your... your dad says you can fix my nose."

She looked up from her book darkly, "Maybe."

He closed his eyes, tears threatening to leak from the sides from the crackling pain across his face, "Can you fix my nose?"

She finished the braid and looked back down at her book, "No."

"No?"

"I didn't hear the magic word."

Clint sighed, "Please?"

"Not gonna cut it."

He tried to sigh in exasperation but all that caused was a cascade of blood to flow down his nose and onto his upper lip, "What else can I do for you so you will fix my nose? Please?"

She closed her book with a snap and looked up with a sharp edge to her eyes, "Get on your knees."

"Oh, come on!"

"You took a shot at my dignity," snapped Evelyn, "You need a shot at yours. Quid pro quo."

"What does that even mean?"

She rolled her eyes and returned to her book. The pain was getting to him, corkscrewing right into the middle of his head. With a deep sigh, he dropped down to one knee and his head swam, vision fading in and out. There was enough blood seeping from his nose that he wobbled, about to pass out. He was looking at the ground, barely enough dignity or energy left to look at her.

"Will you please fix my nose? It really hurts now. I'm sorry for being mean."

"Alright," said Evelyn, "Come on up here. I'll fix it."

He partly crawled into the chair next to her, avoiding her eyes even as she grabbed his face to get a good look at his nose. He looked every bit the awkward teenage boy who just had his ass handed to him in the most humiliating way possible, right down to the watery red eyes.

"That was quite a hit," he said weakly, trying to lighten the mood, "Not bad for a girl."

"Don't talk," ordered Evelyn as she grabbed the nose firmly about the base, "I should warn you, this will probably hurt."

"What do you mean it will- OW! F-fuck!"

The broken portion of the nose snapped back into place quickly and suddenly with nothing to warn him but a sickly sucking crack. Clint whimpered pitifully as pain shot across his face for a second and then he saw a surge of white light. His sinuses filled with something warm.

"Ow," he whined miserably, "I suppose I deserved that…"

"Yeah, you did," grumbled Evelyn as she fiddled around with the nose some more. It felt hot and Clint wasn't sure if it was blood or snot. Like a light switch, her tone changed into something more conversational, "What brought you to SHIELD? What's your... superpower?"

"A-archery," he whimpered, "You?"

"Family," she replied bluntly, digging in her purse for something, "Take a look at your nose now."

She handed him a small compact mirror and he looked, expecting to see his nose bent completely out of shape. Instead he took a deep breath through fully healed, pain-free nasal passages. His sinuses seemed fuller than before but he could accept that. The reflection in the tiny mirror showed a mended, regular, curvy little nose.

"It's… healed," he breathed in deeply.

"Clean up," ordered Evelyn scrunching her nose, "You smell like blood."

He ran off to the bathroom, passing Phil and Maria who observed the whole thing.

"You should've not made it hurt." he said leaning against the frame of the door, addressing the way she healed his nose.

"Bone was out of place, if I healed it without moving it he would've look like Owen Wilson."

Maria laughed, a proud look on her face. Phil clearly amused grinned, "Next time you need to set the cartilage or bone try to not make it hurt. Even if they deserve it."

She smiled, "Yes Papa."

Phil turned to walk away and fill out Clint's paperwork. Maria lingered for a second before going back to work. She knew she shouldn't, but as she passed Evelyn, she whispered, "Good job."

Clint walked out of the bathroom a few minutes later. His t-shirt was damp from where he unsuccessfully tried to clean the blood off. His eyes were red but the mess on his face cleaned up nice. They sat side by side for a moment. Evelyn pretended to be engrossed in her book and far too busy to speak with him. But it didn't stop Clint from missing the point entirely.

"How do you do that?"

"I don't know," said Evelyn curtly

"Oh?"

She sighed, setting her book aside, "I am going away to find out."

"Where are you going?"

She looked warily at him, "Away."

"SHIELD Academy? It's cool. I'm going to be there too."

"No, uh," she muttered, looking down at the ground, "Don't… don't judge me. But… I'm going to Xavier's School."

He looked at her with a smile, "Are you a mutant?"

"I don't know. But I'm going to find out."

They sat for a long moment, looking at their shoes as the world continued around them. Clint finally looked up, "You know, it's okay if you are."

"Yeah."

"Look, I'm from a circus," he elaborated, "It doesn't matter to me what you are. I live with bearded ladies and contortionists. Mutants. Mutants are cool."

She smiled, "You don't have to justify yourself."

"I know. It's just a tough life. You shouldn't feel-"

"I get it. Thanks."

They continued to stare at anything but each other for a long moment. Clint still smelled strongly of blood. He poked at the drying spot to judge the severity of the stain. He glanced back over at Evelyn, who seemed very fascinated with her fingernails.

"Can we be friends?" he tentatively asked.

"Don't push it," she ordered, but she was smiling a teeny tiny bit. Clint took it as a 'yes.'


	15. Pt 2 ch 3: My, What Big Claws You Have

"What are you doing?"

"Helping," Clint was wearing a new black t-shirt over his grubby old blue jeans when he showed up on their front doorstep, "Your dad asked me to give him a hand moving your stuff."

Evelyn opened the apartment door and let him in. He kicked off his worn black Converse sneakers at the door, revealing graying socks with holes of varying sizes along the sole. SHIELD boot camp was wearing him out in the literal sense.

"Everything is pretty much already packed. We just need to get it out to the car now."

"That's fine, I can do heavy lifting." He sluggishly put back on his shoes.

Evelyn held in a giggle, "I think I can handle it."

"Are you just trying to get me to go away?" he smirked, "Because it won't work. Your dad invited me. So I'm not leaving until he tells me I can go."

"No," she corrected herself quickly, "It's nothing like that but… I really got this."

Her eyes flicked around the room for a second and she ran over to the couch, effortlessly lifting it with one arm. Clint's mouth fell open, eyes as wide as dinner plates. He was silent for a second as Evelyn put the couch down.

"It's a trick."

"No, it's not."

"Yeah, sure," he said, waving her away, "We had something like that at the circus. It's all in how you lift it, right? So, there is some way of balancing it or something."

"Alright, fine. Pick something for me to lift. Anything."

"Fridge," he said automatically, "No, wait… can you lift Lola?"

"Easily," said Evelyn, jogging down the stairs with him. Her long hair flounced along. In just the past few years, the carroty orange stands had darkened toward a handsome auburn. "Although Dad would freak out if he knew."

"We can do it quick," said Clint, sliding down the stairwell banister after her, "He won't know."

"Dad has eyes in the back of his head," laughed Evelyn as they made their way down to the parking garage. "He knows everything."

"Yes I do."

Clint jumped into Evelyn's arms when he heard Phil's voice from the bottom of the stairs. Evelyn squeaked and caught him, easily lifting his frame. While he was not hefty, he had some muscle bulk and was not an easy person to lift if she had been anything other than a super-strong teenager.

"So," Phil held in a laugh at the amusing scene in front of him, "What are you two up to?"

"Clint doesn't believe that I can pick up Lola," blurted Evelyn. Clint shot her a look as he climbed out of her arms.

"That's not going to happen," said Phil, "You're going to have to take my word that she can do it."

"I already lifted a couch for him and he didn't believe it was real. He thought it was a trick."

"Well… isn't it?"

"I assure you it is not. She's been scaring me by picking up cars since she was about four. And you," he poked Clint in the chest, "Shouldn't be getting into any more trouble than you are already in. You're already on probation."

"Oh, come on, it was a simple mistake," whined Clint, "I didn't know we were doing room checks!"

"Probation? Seriously?" Evelyn rolled her eyes in the background.

"And you also stole high tensile cable," added Phil, "That's really the reason you got yourself in trouble."

"I didn't _mean_ to steal it. I just didn't know I couldn't take it! It was just sitting out there!"

"Ask. Always ask. Or risk being buried in triplicate for the foreseeable future."

"Yes, sir," Clint looked sheepish with his hands behind his back and big, sorry eyes. He kept his mischief under control while they loaded the car with Evelyn's things. There wasn't a lot but she was going to be gone for the foreseeable future. All her clothes and shoes had to be loaded up as did school supplies and toiletries. Most of it fit in the trunk but some of it had to reside in the back seat of the car.

"Are you going to be back for Christmas?" asked Clint as the trunk slammed shut.

Evelyn chuckled, "I haven't even left and you're asking when I'll be back?"

Clint shuffled from foot to foot, "Don't get me wrong, I mean, I like SHIELD and I'm learning a lot but… but there's not many people there my age. And those who are my age are super smart and don't really want to… I don't really understand their conversations and it's… it's a bit awkward. And everyone else is super intense and… which is good, you know. It's good because I feel like I'm getting pushed, which I need but… I'm just… I'm really gonna miss you."

"You'll be fine. I'm not far away." she punched his arm playfully.

"I guess."

Phil looked up from from the front seat of the car, "We have about an hour before we have to leave. Are you two in the mood for lunch?"

"Starving!" interjected Clint barely before the words finished leaving Phil's mouth. Evelyn shrugged. She was usually hungry.

"Where do you kids want to go?"

Clint and Evelyn shared a glance and then said at the same time, "Hamburgers."

Phil didn't want to think of it as a "last supper" or anything like that. She was within driving distance away and he could visit whenever. But he couldn't deny that he would miss these outings and being able to take her away for lunch and just talk like they were doing now. Evelyn was in the middle of eating a double cheeseburger and Clint already finished his ( _inhaling_ his, more like) and was trying to steal fries off her plate. She slapped his hand away and he whined in protest.

"I was going to eat that!" insisted Evelyn, "you have your own."

"Well, excuse me, princess!"

"Lay off, I'm no princess," she muttered into her sandwich.

"Not when you eat like that," prodded Clint.

Phil laughed. It was good to see Clint adjusting. They were an unlikely friendship, given their rough start. It was still far too early to know anything for certain but they were getting along well. As a father and a mentor, it was the most he could hope for. He did worry that the distance would dearly test the blossoming friendship.

Clint decided to ride up to the school with them to drop her off. He and Evelyn monopolized the backseat. Clint wanted to know what she was reading.

"The Hobbit," she said, holding up the well-loved cover for him to see. "I've read the whole series more times than I can remember. It's a nice adventure."

"Never read it."

Evelyn looked aghast, "You're kidding me!"

"We didn't have many books around," he explained sheepishly, "I mean, I stopped going to school when I was thirteen. Barney home schooled me a bit. And the rest of the circus taught me everything else."

Evelyn paused for a moment, looking at the tan cover of the book. With a sigh, she handed it over to Clint. "You need to read this."

"But you said it was your favorite!"

"Exactly. That's why you need to read it. You can give it back when you are done but you have to read this story. And then you need to read the rest of the Lord of the Rings."

"I don't know if I'll have time with school and stuff," he admitted, but his hands cradled the book.

"Take your time," she replied, "but you need to read this. It's a good story."

"Okay," he smiled a bit, "Thanks."

"No problem."

"Evelyn's good for books," noted Phil from the front seat, "She's on a one-woman mission to read through the whole public library."

"I'm a long ways away from that, Papa!"

"I'm just saying, Evelyn is good for book recommendations. You won't run out of options if you stuck with her."

Clint fidgeted in his seat, "I'll make time."

"Well, let me know when you are finished so I can give you the next book," offered Evelyn.

"You're assuming I'm going to like this," he opened the first page, " _In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit hole, and that means comfort._ "

His voice faded off as he slowly became drawn into the tale of wizards and dragons, dwarves and elves. Eventually he was bent double with his nose buried between the slightly yellowed pages.

Evelyn fell silent, staring off as the city passed by their faces and the buildings melted into peaceful green country and small bedroom communities. Eventually the towns disappeared into fields of tall grain and endless expanses of green. The roads were largely empty as he turned off the main highways and into the bumpy, winding country roads.

The gates of Xavier's School were wrought iron and brick, obviously very old. The long driveway passed through a small grove of tall, majestic maple trees just starting to change colors with the onset of autumn. Clint rubbed his eyes as they drew near.

"Are we here already?"

"Just about," said Phil, consulting his map one more time to ensure he was at the correct address.

The massive red brick building emerged from between the trees. Vines of rich green ivy crept up the structure, cozied close like they were made to fit together. The roof of charcoal slate devoid of leaves or debris from the trees. A clean path led from the circular drive to a handsome forest green door. Phil parked the car and Evelyn uncurled her cramped legs as she exited. Clint was rubbing tiredness from his eyes. He appeared a bit bleary from being buried in a book for going on an hour without respite.

Phil walked around the car toward the door when he realized Evelyn was not at his side. She lingered back, looking up at the building and holding her arms against her chest. Her plum - colored sweater was pulled over her fingers as an early autumn wind whipped in from the north.

"Evey," he called, offering a hand to her. She took it, but her palm was sweaty, but that may have been from the fluffy sweater.

The door opened as they drew near. Phil instantly recognized Professor Xavier. He was still in his wheelchair and looked almost identical to his memory. There was a woman standing with him. She looked maybe twenty years old at most, with abundant ochre hair. She wore a neat green blouse and a pleated khaki skirt.

"Welcome," said Xavier as Evelyn walked up the stone steps to the door, "You must be Miss Evelyn."

"Yes," Evelyn's grip on Phil's hand was almost painful. "That's me."

"Your father has spoke often about you," said Xavier with a soft smile, "please come in, all of you."

The foyer was cavernous, made up mostly of elegant dark wood paneling. The floors were light stone tile in the entranceway but eventually swapped for deep, heavy green carpet in the sitting room. Heirloom armchairs of carved wood and velvet plush dotted the space, punctuated by vintage paintings and a handsome brick fireplace. It was a mix between an antique store and the set of The Addams Family.

"So, Miss Evelyn," said Professor X as he turned and parked his wheelchair across from her, "please have a seat so we can begin our entrance interview."

Phil and Evelyn took a seat. Clint lingered back by the door, apparently fascinated with the brass finishings or else feeling like the third wheel to this party.

"I hope you don't mind, but my assistant will be taking notes. This is Jean Grey, she is one of the older students at the school and assists me with some administrative tasks and, ah, mobility issues."

The girl with the bright hair nodded, smiling, "I do what I can."

Evelyn nodded but it felt like someone else was performing the basic tasks of moving while she was a passenger in her own body. Her eyes flicked nervously around until Phil rested a hand on her arm. His warm smile allowed her to settle back into her skin.

"First of all, can you explain the nature of your abilities?"

"Well, uh, it started when I was very young. I've always been strong, as long as I can remember."

"I first noticed when she was four and she lifted a couch," added in Phil.

"And then when I was a bit older, the glittery, healing, thing sort of happened."

"Ten," noted Phil, "you were ten when we first started noticing. You called them fairy lights."

"To what extent do you know your powers? For example, are you aware of how much you can lift?"

Evelyn fumbled, trying to remember how high the bench press at SHIELD went but she didn't remember. Lifting those were no real problem and they had to be at least two hundred pounds, if not more. She said as much.

"So you do not know your maximums?"

"I guess not," muttered Evelyn.

Professor X nodded kindly. He had a few more questions regarding what Evelyn had experience healing, her grades in school, favored subjects and other academic related questions. Jean was scribbling things rapidly on a legal pad. It may have been Phil's imagination but she seemed to be writing much more than Evelyn had said.

"You need to get settled," Professor X noted after some time had passed, "go and unload your car, bring your things inside. Your roommate, Katherine, will not be out of class for a few more hours but we can begin the process of moving you in right away."

Clint's ears perked up and he hurried to the car, Phil and Evelyn on his heels. She felt tight in her chest, nervous. It was just starting to sink in that her time with her father and Clint was limited and dwindling fast. Together, the process of unloading the car took next to no time. It was almost time for them to leave and attempt to beat the rush of traffic back into the city.

They would leave without her.

"I wanted to give you a little something before you left. Just as a," Phil paused to find the word because ' _goodbye gift_ ' left a bitter taste in his mouth, "Little reminder of home."

He pulled a small box from the inside of his jacket and handed it to her. She opened the case and inside two sparkling diamond earring rested on a slip of black velvet. Evelyn gasped.

"Papa, you shouldn't have!"

"I needed to get something nice for my little girl, now that she's becoming a grown-up."

Phil threw his arms around his daughter, holding her tight to his chest. He planted a kiss on her forehead, brushing away a stubborn strand of hair which fell right into her teary hazel-green eyes.

"Papa," she sniffled and suddenly she was a baby girl in his arms again, a baby girl asking for her daddy to hold her and keep her safe, a baby girl who deserved to be loved. She would always be the little baby he picked from the desert sagebrush and carried home, swaddled in his work jacket. She would always be the little cactus baby.

Phil struggled to remind himself this was all for the best. His daughter chose this place for her education. He _was_ doing this in attempt to be a good father and give his daughter the best he could offer. But letting go... he would never get used to that feeling.

When Phil finally relinquished her from the embrace, she turned to Clint. He was trying not to look on the verge of tears but his eyes betrayed him. He held out a hand for Evelyn to shake but she pushed it aside and went in for the hug. Warm arms squeezed his sides to hard he felt like he was being choked. But he wrapped his arms around the girl.

"You better call," muttered Clint, "it's gonna be boring without you."

"I'll miss you too," she replied from the folds of his shirt, "and enjoy that book. Let me... let me know what you think."

"Damnit, you're making me cry. I don't want to cry," he choked, wiping the tear away. Clint continued to hold onto her, letting a stubborn tear break loose and float down his cheek.

"We'll be back in a few weeks to visit," promised Phil. He said it half to comfort Clint but also to reassure himself.

As the car vanished down the drive and Evelyn vanished into a speck in the rear view mirror, waving to them as they slipped over the horizon, Phil stole a glance into the passengers seat. Clint was being uncharacteristically quiet. His nose was buried between the pages of the Hobbit, his own journey equally as unexpected as the title character's. Indeed, as Phil mused, all three of their lives were a series of unexpected journeys. All of them leading and convalescing into this moment in time.

And all he could do was hope they were on the right path.

Evelyn, meanwhile, watched the iron gates close behind Lola and the red car scooted off down the road. She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned into the school, the place she was going to call home for the indeterminate future.

She followed Jean and the professor through the ornate halls. She had to admit the building was beautiful: all oak paneling and handsome carved moulding. There were old paintings on the walls and some framed photographs of the students. The distinctly old-world architecture vanished upon opening the door to the labs.

The ornate fixtures were replaced with powder blue walls and glossy white surfaces. The furniture took a turn for the ergonomic: deep chairs made of a soft material, like a bean bag, hung in a shiny chrome frame. Computers and lab equipment dotted the tables and tall cabinets filled with bottles and flasks took up three of the four walls. She recognized some of the equipment from school classes but many were unfamiliar to her.

"Evelyn," said Xavier, "I'd like to you meet Doctor Hank McCoy. He is going to head up your genetic testing."

Evelyn didn't quite to know what to think of the blue beast in front of her. He looked like a grizzly bear in the most literal sense. Yellowed eyes peered out of tufts of fur. He looked like he could easily rip her to pieces but he extended a large… paw… and his eyes seemed nice and warm. Part of her wondered if Professor X was completely out of his mind. But another part of her was too overwhelmed to question anything. She was in a world of mutants now, she should have suspected the strange right away.

"It's n-nice to meet you," she said softly.

"Likewise," said Doctor McCoy, his voice was velvety deep and… she didn't know how else to put it, human.

"Hank will help with any sort of medical tests that you need. We need some preliminary sampling before we can move on. When you are done, you will be introduced to your roommate and we will prepare you for classes," instructed Professor X, turning his chair as he spoke, "Either Jean or I will be in touch."

"Okay," Evelyn took a deep breath to hold in her trembling.

"Good girl," Professor X turned fully around to leave, "I will see you later."

"Well," said Doctor McCoy, as he set something down on the tray nearby and the doors shut behind Professor X, "Let's get the tests started. Please take a seat. I regret that I don't have a more comfortable chair for you. All the ones I have around here have to be molded so… well, so I can fit."

The chair folded in around her, making her feel soft and warm. It wasn't unlike being in the middle of a hug, which made her miss her father and Clint all the worse. She held in the broken feeling in her chest and plastered on the best brave face she could muster.

"If you want to get this going," said Doctor McCoy, "We can begin."

"What is going to happen?"

"I'm going to check your genetic sequencing first," said McCoy, "Also test for things such as hormone levels which might give us some way of telling why there is an early start to your powers."

"It is really that unusual?"

"Unusual," confirmed McCoy, "But hardly unheard of. Mutations are a funny business. Signs can manifest early but reach their peak in puberty. There are also what we call 'secondary mutations.' It's just fancy words meaning that the mutation expands."

"So like Pokemon evolving?"

McCoy shrugged one shoulder, "More or less. Now, I need to take your blood pressure and then I'm going to draw a little bit of blood so I can test your sequencing and chemistry. Will you be all right with this?"

"I'm not afraid," bluffed Evelyn. If she was being totally honest with herself, nothing scared her worse than this moment.

"Good girl. I'm going to have Jean take your blood since my hands…aren't exactly cut out for delicate work."

He wiggled his large, clawed fingers playfully as he picked up the armband for blood pressure. With a little giggle, Evelyn felt herself relax, despite the redheaded woman drawing very near with a rather large needle.

Sometime later a thought popped into Evelyn's mind that was not her own. ' _It seems like you're finished, can you come to my office?_ '

"Uh…" She looked around, trying to pinpoint where the strange voice came from, and noticed Beast chuckling at her.

"Dr. Xavier didn't mean to startle you. Here, I'll lead you to his office." They made their way down the hall to the elevator. They entered into Xavier's office. A woman leaned on the desk, tall and slender with abundant curly hair and pretty features: an upturned nose and shapely lips.

"Ah, Evelyn. I apologize for frightening you. I tend to use telepathy when I am in a hurry or need to contact those from down stairs."

"Its okay. I just... I wasn't expecting it."

"There will be lots of surprises for you the first few days. I wish there was a good way to acclimate you to the new environment but I'm afraid there is no good way to do so. As you'll find most of us are different just as you are, but we have a common need of fitting together." His gaze turned to the woman, "Evelyn this is Rogue. She has lived her for a few years now and will be showing you to your room."

Evelyn nodded towards her and took her in. She had a platinum blond streak in her brunette hair and wore commando pants, high boots, and a grungy and faded band shirt. Topping off the look were a well-loved pair of brown gloves.

"Hi there, let's get you situated." she said with a southern drawl. "We had some of the boys take your things. Faster than luggin' it up those godforsaken stairs."

"I would have helped if I had known," offered Evelyn as she followed the girl through the halls.

"You got plenty to worry about your first day. You don't need nothing else on your mind, sugar."

The sentence didn't make sense in Evelyn's mind. It was like a game of Scrabble got upended and she tried to make sense of the jumble of pieces left behind. Eventually, she gave up.

"I heard we have roommates."

"Oh, yeah! I almost forgot. I was s'posed to give you the rundown of dorm rules. So, rooms are girls with girls and boys with boys. You can have boys in your room, but the door's gotta be open and they can't be in there after ten at night," she leaned in conspiratorially, "Between you and me, nobody follows that rule much but you gotta be careful so's y'all don't get caught, understood?"

"Yes," Evelyn's mind raced to keep up.

"So, you have your class schedule. They all begin right on time, 'cept Logan's because he can't always be asked and nobody much argues with him."

"Why-?"

"Oh, you'll find out why as soon as you meet him," chuckled Rogue, "And, ah, dinner's five to six. Breakfast starts being served at six until eight. Lunch is between noon and two. But each floor has a kitchen on it so if you feel hungry, you can cook yourself somethin'. Remy and I usually do soup or somethin' at least once a week 'cause we get a hankering for a bit of home. Ah! Here we are!"

She paused in front of a door, brass numbers on the front labeled it as room 222. Rogue knocked and the door creaked open. A girl stood in the frame, smiling.

"Heya, Kitty," smiled Rogue, "brought you a friend."

Kitty was petite, like a willow tree, with thin limbs and long fingers. Chocolate-colored hair framed her round face in loose waves and bounced around her shoulders. Her eyes were honey brown with flecks of olive green flashing near the iris. She smiled and flounced toward her new roommate.

"You must be Evelyn," she said, offering her hand no sooner than she stepped over the threshold of the door. "I'm Kitty."

"Nice to meet you," replied Evelyn, taking the offered hand. The other girl had a light grip but still with a presence in her hand.

"Which bunk do you want?" asked Kitty, jerking her thumb over her shoulder.

The beds were arranged in an L-shape. The top bunk flush against the wall while the lower bunk was perpendicular, half covered by the upper bunk and snug against the corner. Kitty's dresser, covered with scarves and jewelry stood at the foot of the upper bed. Another dresser was tucked under the top bunk, parallel to the lower bunk. Evelyn assumed that would be hers.

Evelyn glanced nervously at the top. Her eyes flicked down quickly. "Do you mind if I have bottom? I'm not overly fond of heights."

"S'cool. I'm already on top. So that just makes things easy."

"Thank you," sighed Evelyn as she let her duffle bag slide off her shoulder and onto the floor.

"Here's your key to your room and the floor," Rogue instructed her, handing her a ring with a pair of tiny brass keys, "The front door locks at eleven unless otherwise noted to make sure you are in before then. Other than that, you can go pretty much anywhere any time you want. Except the airfield. You gotta have a permit for that."

"There's an airfield?" Evelyn's already scrambled brain tried to take in this fact.

"I'll show you after dinner if you want," explained Rogue, "but we gotta get a move on if we want hot food. Dinner starts in ten minutes. And you want to get there before the boys, 'cause they eat like wild dogs."

The students all ate together in one communal room on three long tables. Evelyn tried to do a head count of all the students there but she lost track after forty-eight because she was fairly certain she started counting the same people twice. She took a seat between Kitty and Rogue.

Dinner was spaghetti and meatballs. Ordinarily she would be enthused by the meal as it was well prepared and the air itself seemed imbibed with herbs and spices. Tonight, however, exhaustion lingered in her bones. More than eating, she desired to fall into bed and let the day end. Tomorrow would inevitably arrive and too soon for her liking but if she could forget everything and hover in the plane between reality and dreams, it would be a relief. Instead, she was sitting at a table eating food surrounded by strangers in a place she only just arrived in and had yet to establish, really, as being her home. She tried to make do by engaging in conversation.

"So, how long have you been here?"

"Year and a half," explained Kitty, "I roomed with Rogue last year but she's moving into the other wing so she can be closer to the containment unit. I didn't have problems, but she said she wanted to play it safe."

"Play it safe?" Evelyn asked. The canyon between words and comprehension grew wider with each conversation.

Kitty leaned in, "Rogue's power is that she can absorb the energy and abilities of anyone she touches. It's wicked cool but... dangerous. Like, it could kill you, dangerous."

"Hence the gloves?" She ventured.

Kitty nodded. Evelyn swallowed. She never particularly thought of mutants as being dangerous. She heard stories in the newspaper, of course, but it seemed overhyped and made to scare. Her father worked with a few mutants and they seemed exceptionally ordinary people. It was hard to understand what the big deal was. Evelyn pondered it over as she forced herself to eat something to try to fill the hole in her gut.

"So what's your power?" Evelyn asked, almost fearing the answer.

"I walk through walls," Kitty shrugged, stuffing a meatball into her mouth. "You?"

"Uh, well, I am... strong... and, uh, I heal people using electricity."

"Rad," smiled Kitty, "bet you are a real help in a pinch."

"Something like that."

After dinner, Kitty helped Evelyn get the room situated. They shared a bathroom with their neighbors, a pair of boys named Bobby and Kurt. Bobby was a gangly boy with long limbs and a mop of blond hair. He somewhat reminded her of Clint with his smirking grin and glittering ice blue eyes. Kurt was more unusual. He had indigo skin and hair, glowing yellow eyes with no pupils, and a tail ending on a sharp point. His hands and feet were odd, with three large digits on each limb. But his smile was kind and his voice soft, heavily accented.

"I grew up in Bavaria," he explained, "with a traveling circus."

"That makes you the second person I have met from a circus," she smiled.

"Ah, do tell," he encouraged.

Talking about Clint made Evelyn realize how much she had gotten used to his company. He tried teaching her how to shoot a bow while they abused the SHIELD weight room over the summer. She had just started getting the hang of it when she left.

Fortunately, lights out time came quickly and Evelyn could sink into her new bed. Her body was drained but her head was buzzing. She pulled the blankets up around her face but her thoughts wouldn't slow down. She opened her eyes and the room still seemed bright as day. The light burned against the inside of her eyelids, barely blocked out no matter which way she turned.

Frustrated, and not knowing what else to do, she walked over to the nightlight and knelt to remove it from the outlet. Kitty looked up from her bed. "What are you doing?"

"I can't sleep," announced Evelyn, "I'm sorry, Kitty. But the light…"

"Oh no," exclaimed Kitty, "Evelyn, no, I can't.. I'm…I'm afraid of the dark!"

Evelyn paused, her hand over the light for a second. "Look, it's not a big deal."

"Yes it is!"

"Look, trust me."

"Evelyn!" Kitty covered her eyes with the blanket as the other girl pulled the light from the socket, "Eek!"

"Kitty? Open your eyes."

"No!" she squeaked, eyes crinkled shut.

"I'm serious." she yawned

The girl peeked over the edge of the blanket, her eyes wide with fright. The expression dissolved as she saw a pale blue-white glow emanating from Evelyn. Her skin sparkled with light, concentrating around her fingernails and in the shadows of her eyes.

"Wow."

"See, you have nothing to worry about."

"Can you make it brighter?"

She concentrated on the energy in her and the room brightened. She sighed after a few seconds, unable to keep it up. Her body dimmed back to its previous glow.

"Thats okay, any light helps." Kitty smiled, "Doesn't it keep you up?"

Evelyn shrugged, "I don't really notice my own glow."

"Is it a part of your ability?"

"I think so." she yawned climbing back into bed.

"Thanks, Evelyn. Good night." Kitty rolled on her side to face Evelyn and snuggled in her bedding.

"Night Kitty."

Despite ending the night on a good note, Evelyn had a dream about the gold man. It had been some years but the dogged steps of the mysterious man haunted her. When she awoke, there was a weight on her forehead. She sat up and it slid down her face. The face of a small toy puppy stared back at her.

"Oh, good, you're up," said an unfamiliar voice from the other side of the room.

Evelyn blinked and tried to refocus her thoughts. She wasn't at home. Home was an hour away. She was waking up without her father down the hall for the first time in her memory. She had a roommate. Her name was Kitty. And her roommate could walk through walls.

"You were thrashing around in your sleep," she explained, "When Rogue would do that, I dropped a Beanie Baby on her and it usually helped. I guess it kind of worked with you too."

Evelyn reached over to set the toy on her dresser and stretch on the bed. She took a deep breath and set her feet on the ground. The room didn't feel like home yet but, maybe eventually.

She dressed and looked at the small box on her dresser. The earring rested inside, sparkling in the morning light as it streamed in the window. She put the tiny diamond studs in her ears, admiring them for a second in the mirror. It made her feel better. It made her feel like there was a bit of home with her. It made the step into the new day, new classes, new people a little easier to take.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the hall.

Far away, at SHIELD HQ in New York, Phil Coulson was keeping a close eye on his daughter. He examined the feed from the small video camera he had embedded in the pair of earrings he gave Evelyn. Disapproving eyes peered over his shoulder.

"If she finds out, Evelyn is going to be pissed at you," noted Bobbi.

"I'm just doing what any concerned parent would do and making sure she doesn't get herself into trouble."

"And, so, what if she does? Are you going to fly up there, break down the door, and scold her?" she asked, crossing her arms across her chest, "Exactly _how_ do you plan on explaining to her how you knew what was going on?"

"I'll tell her the truth."

She held back a laugh. To her credit, she almost succeeded. "She's not going to take that well _at all_."

"Look," Phil turned in the chair, "It's a preventative measure. You hope you will never have to use a seat belt, but it is in your car anyway."

"Somehow, I don't think Evelyn is going to see it that way. She's going to see it as _spying_. Take it from me, little girls don't like their daddies knowing every single aspect of their life. Some things are sacred."

"If we're careful, she never has to know."

"If _you're_ careful. I'm having no part in this," Bobbi threw her hands up in defeat, "But I'm going to be first in line to say 'I told you so' when this things go wrong."

"What could possibly go wrong?"

Phil subtly reached over and knocked on his wooden desk, just to be certain.


	16. Pt 2 ch 4: Mutations 101

Evelyn raced across the muddy field, stomping feet of sentinels right on her tail. She had been running for a while and the faint burn of exhaustion threatened to trip her up but she was far too scared to stop. Kitty was a little ways ahead, making a break for a small red barn (really more of a shed). She needed to stop to arrange her thoughts and catch her breath but running into the barn would certainly lead the sentinel to Kitty and then they would both be trapped. She made a split-second decision and turned to face her attacker.

The machine was easily twice her height, if not taller. It was a looming shadow in the dark, mostly hidden in the curls of early morning mist. The only thing to be seen were a pair of glowing yellow eyes casting a sickly glow over a shadowy face. The robotic joints creaked and servos whined as it drew near. In a panic, Evelyn raised her hands and felt the warmth of energy flood into her body.

She hoped, although she couldn't know for sure, that she could deplete the batteries before any bodily harm could come to her. The lights for eyes flickered and then went out. The joints buckled and the machine crumpled into a heap in the dewy grass. Mud and wet grass splattered across her shoes as the monstrosity collapsed before her.

Evelyn breathed out, heart pounding and energy coursing through her body like a flood. A puff of her condensed breath swept in front of her eyes. She was barely thinking as she bolted into the barn, slamming the door behind her and slumping to the ground. Kitty turned quickly upon seeing her friend enter.

"You made it!"

"Yeah," Evelyn exhaled, her knees wobbly and weak ankles unable to support her weight. "You okay?"

"Fine," Kitty assured her, "I fell a while back but I think I am just muddy. I'm not hurt."

"Then let's call Logan for evac."

Kitty pulled a small remote from her pocket and hit the gleaming red button. The scene around them dissolved into a mess of pixels. Logan stood on the the observation deck above them, peering down at the scene. He was short, stocky, with thick mutton chops and a perpetual growl perched on the end of his lips, usually accompanied by a resinous cigar. If you stood next to Logan, it was easy to be overwhelmed by one of any number of pungent smells, the cigar being only one of them. He was joined on the deck by the bespectacled Scott Summers. Scott was the taller of the two instructors, and more traditionally handsome with thick, dark hair which curled across his scalp but threatened to someday recede into obscurity. His eyes were obscured by red-tinted glasses perched on sharp cheekbones. His facial features ran the gamut between disapproving and constipated.

"Nice job, kids," growled Logan around his cigar, "Now do it again but this time with three sentinels."

"Three!" exclaimed Kitty in protest.

"You realize it is rare for just one of them to come after you at a time?" Logan noted as he tapped buttons on the console and fumbled with dials, "You gotta be prepared for the worst case scenario. And, trust me, it can get much worse than this. We're still wading through the kiddie pool."

"It's the left button," muttered Scott, his voice audible in the cavernous room.

"Fuck off! I know it's the left button," snarled Logan in return. "You have ten seconds for the program to load. Good luck and don't die."

The room faded to black. Shapes and textures began to emerge around them. The scene was set in some sort of warehouse with a high ceiling and a series of interlocking catwalks. Chest-high metal crates and trailers scattered about the space, providing patchy cover in case of a firefight. Evelyn's mind flicked between thoughts, trying to settle on one and develop a plan.

"What do we do?" asked Kitty, standing back to back with Evelyn so they could survey the scene together.

"I'm… not sure," admitted Evelyn, "Where's our checkpoint?"

Kitty pulled out the calculator - sized implement in her pocket. She groaned, "The roof."

"Are you kidding me?" Evelyn glanced upward. There was no way to get up there without jumping higher than a kangaroo or stacking boxes. She wasn't sure how well either of those plans would go once the sentinels started rushing in.

No sooner did the thought crossed her mind, she heard the faint, but distinctive stomping of metal feet. So they had to think of a plan immediately, especially before she started to panic and lost track of her line of thought.

"Can we go outside and maybe find a fire escape or something?" offered Kitty. She ran over and poked her head through the wall. "Nope! Nothing out there and they're about a hundred yards away. Any ideas?"

Evelyn's eyes flicked around the room. The start of a plan emerged in her mind. It was primitive, as in banging rocks together to create fire, and she wasn't totally sure it would work but she had no time to be indecisive. She set her jaw and lifted the nearest storage box, a large industrial container. She propped it up against a smaller steel container. A loud slam seem to rock the building on the foundations. Kitty gasped and steadied herself. Evelyn selected another box that she guessed to weigh roughly as much as her and Kitty together. Now for the tough part.

"Do you trust me?" She asked Kitty.

"Do what you need to do," the other girl said, eyes wide as the walls began to splinter.

"Climb on," ordered Evelyn, "and hold onto me."

Kitty jumped onto her so that Evelyn carried her on her back. She was thankful Kitty was slight of build, clocking in at maybe a hundred and ten pounds with a thick coat on. Taking a deep breath, Evelyn stepped onto the low end of the crate and tossed the one in hand to the other side.

Time stood still for a moment. The walls of the warehouse gave way and the hulking metal monsters stormed through the hole they created, scanning the scene. The crate arched through the air as Evelyn planted her feet. If all went well, the crude system would act like a seesaw and vault them upwards, hopefully high enough for her to get a hand on the catwalk and pull them up. If not, then she created a really loud noise to attract attention to them right when they were vulnerable.

Fortunately, her gamble worked. Kitty screamed as they were flipped into the air. The force from the fulcrum was more than Evelyn anticipated and they flew up to the deck and slammed into the concrete wall. Evelyn felt her head spin as they collided but she felt more panicked than hurt as she assessed the situation.

The noise had alerted the sentinels to their location, just as she feared, but they were already on the catwalk so if they ran, they could keep ahead. Kitty was already sprinting for the metal ladder as fast as her legs could carry her and Evelyn followed.

As they drew near, the leering metal face drew up next to them. Kitty reacted first, her hand ghosting in through the space between the yellow pinprick eyes. Whatever she did when she was in there seemed to work because the machinery whined and gave up. The robotic husk dropped from the perch and slammed into the ground.

"One down," called Kitty. But there were still two left, tearing at the supports so the whole catwalk system shook side to side, wobbling like a ship in a storm. The girls shrieked but continued to scramble up the catwalks. Groaning metal and stomping feet followed them as they leapt from one metal platform to the other, ignoring the joists being ripped down at their heels.

Evelyn considering turning to fight but the monstrous machines were right on their tails. If she fell off, she wouldn't be able to get back up on the joists. That was, of course, without taking into consideration what the fall might do to her. So she waited until they were just out of reach, scrambling up another ladder.

"Can you energy drain those things?" asked Kitty from above her.

"I've never tried two at once before," she pondered but she held her hands up anyway. Energy flowed into her body easily. Her fingers yanked at the steady stream of energy, the staticky warmth raced up her arms and flooded her skin. Blue flecks skittered along her arms and her tongue tasted like copper. She saw the frail veneer of the simulation peeled away, revealing the paneling behind and the hologram projectors. The image of the rampaging sentinels slowed, becoming pixilated and white glitch dots skipped over the surface.

"Oops," Evelyn muttered, stopping the flow of energy from her hands, "That… that didn't work at all."

Maybe, conceivably, she over-estimated how much energy she needed to drain in order to shut down the program. Maybe she aimed at the wrong area. She didn't know. It was something to go over later but right now she felt the extreme need to leave. They were so close to the end. She could see the stairs leading up to the rooftop exit. She bolted. Kitty was only just behind her and the robotic monstrosities were beginning to crawl up the walls.

The door was only a few feet away. Evelyn lunged forward, fingers wrapping around the handle. She yanked on it but it didn't budge. She tried pushing and it didn't move the other way either. It rattled, as though padlocked from the outside. She cursed. Of course it wouldn't be that easy. She shoved against the door, really jamming her elbow into the lock with her shoulder. It was astounding that, with all her strength, the lock held firm. It was probably a trick of the programming to make her think outside the box. Even if Logan took his claws to the door, it probably wouldn't give.

Evelyn surveyed the roof. It was concrete, regular concrete, probably reinforced with rebar but otherwise ordinary. Hardwood beams ran the length of the ceiling, holding the roof up. Each of them was massive, probably hundreds or thousands of pounds. Evelyn didn't have time to ponder what she was about to do. She just pulled back her fist and slammed it into the concrete. Her fingers hurt but a crack shot through the concrete like a lightning bolt. A few more beats and the concrete started to give way. She could get her fingers into the gap and rip open a hole. She clawed at the stone, leaving great gouges in the wake of her fingernails. She didn't realize the cracking concrete left the structure weak until the wooden beam groaned.

"Kitty!" yelled Evelyn as the beam shook and threatened to fall, "Kitty, get out of the way!"

"What?"

"Kitty!"

The beam broke loose, tumbling down toward the lower levels. Kitty jumped, passing through the beam easily. Evelyn extended her hand and Kitty somehow caught it. The girls clung to each other and Evelyn clung onto the concrete. Wood struck metal and cracked, splinters darting through the air like shrapnel. The catwalk groaned and gave way, screws and bolts snapping and the whole structure collapsed. It was like kicking over a structure of tinker toys. The beam struck one of the sentinels right down the middle, crushing it and sending metal parts crumbling onto the ground.

Evelyn hauled herself onto the roof with Kitty clinging onto her waist. They crawled onto the roof. Kitty lay back on the cool concrete, breathing heavy. Evelyn's knuckles were bleeding and her fingers were black and blue but she knew it would heal soon. Her fingernails were broken and bloody and those wounds were a bit more problematic. Her entire hand throbbed and she was intensely aware of her own heartbeat pulsing in her thumb.

"Hit the evac button," she muttered, barely able to summon the breath to express those few words.

Kitty nodded and wordlessly pulled the remote from her pocket and hit the red button. The scene dissolved around them and they found themselves on top of the regular, gray hologram room. Evelyn could see a large crack in part of the paneling and assumed that was her fault. Bits of wire poked out and the inner workings sparked feebly. She felt bad.

Logan and Scott drew near. Logan appeared almost amused at them, a smirk holding the cigar in place. Blue-green smoke surrounded his head and a pungent, earthy aroma followed him. Scott looked about ready to lay an egg, he was wound so tight.

"I'll give you points for creativity," noted Logan to break the silence.

"But that was extremely dangerous!" interjected Scott before Logan could say anything else, "That beam weighed two tons and if Kitty didn't get out of the way in time, she would have been crushed to death."

Evelyn opened her mouth to plead her case. Fortunately, Kitty jumped in, her voice dry and wheezing from exhaustion. "Jeez, Scott, it's not like I can, you know, phase right through it or anything like that. We got to safety and we took out two of the three sentinels. I call that one a win."

"That's not the point," countered Scott, "part of the exercise is situational awareness. If you had been paying attention, you could have avoided the situation altogether."

"But I've never been in that building before!" insisted Evelyn, "How was I supposed to know?"

"It's called using your eyes," retorted Scott.

A nasty comment about eyes rested on her tongue. Evelyn swallowed it as she stared at her reflection in Scott's crimson lenses. She bit her tongue to hold in her mean words while she tried to find something better to say.

"Alright, everyone's made their point," ordered Logan, "it's her first time handling this sorta thing. Nobody does their first run right."

Scott spluttered, "But this is just basic-"

"I said lay off of it!" demanded Logan, smoke blasting from his mouth and nose, "You nearly burned down half a warehouse on your first mission and Jean gave everyone migraines. We all fuck up when we're kids. Deal with it."

Scott looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't. His mouth pressed into a harsh line of disapproval that spanned from ear to ear. Logan ground the stub of his cigar into his back teeth and stared him down as best he could through the opaque red glasses. Eventually Scott shook his head and left. Logan exhaled a foul-smelling cloud of smoke after him.

"Thanks," whispered Evelyn, letting out the breath she didn't know she had been holding. Tiredness sank into her skin and reached down into her bones.

"Don't let him get to you. He rubs everyone the wrong way," Logan grumbled around his cigar, "But there was no excuse for not seeing that beam. You need to watch where you are going."

"I know."

"Hit the training room and make it better," ordered Logan, stuffing the cigar back between his teeth, "Next time is next time."

"I understand."

"You better."

Evelyn showered and did her best to dress the wounds so they wouldn't get infected before they healed. She let the flecks of light dance across her fingers, taking away the worst of the pain. It still felt achy and stiff but at least it wasn't bleeding and it didn't seem like anything was broken. She stumbled through dinner because her fingers were fairly swollen and clutching a fork hurt. She sent some more light toward her battered hands. A deep ache still settled into her bones, one which required rest to relieve. Kitty, the best roommate ever, offered to help her take notes while she worked on her science homework in exchange for Evelyn's help with one of her projects.

"I signed up for debate this term and already I regret it after one class," she grumbled, "We have to do a persuasive speech to the class about something controversial."

"Anything controversial?"

"It has to be something where there is a clearly defined side in favor and opposed and it has to be something relevant to today. So, I guess we can't discuss if the building of the pyramids was a wise policy for ancient Egyptian economics. Or, you know, if the wheel if the next big thing."

Evelyn chucked. "So, what have you picked?"

"Nothing yet," muttered Kitty, "I know everyone is doing mutant rights stuff because we have lots of research on the subject. I think if I branched out a bit, I might get points for being different."

"Well," Evelyn toyed with the athletic tape across her knuckles as she thought. "Well, you know, there are the usual suspects like illegal drugs, abortion, AIDS… I dunno, North Korea."

"I dunno," she tapped her pencil against the table, "None of those things really interest me. Maybe North Korea but I don't know enough world history to make that work."

"Well, then I don't know," said Evelyn, "What are other people doing?"

"Uh, affirmative action, mutant incarceration rights, abortion. Really the usual suspects. I guess I could do..." she paused for a second, "You know, nobody is talking about human trafficking."

"Okay," paused Evelyn, "Keep talking."

"Well, I mean," she said, "You would probably know a bit more about this than me, being the science person and all, but it's hard for mutants to get things like blood transfusions and organ transplants and things because our genetics are so different. So, you know, organs have to come from somewhere. It's not always a nice place. That's, you know, ignoring things like sex trafficking and young mutants becoming child soldiers. There is a lot of instances of this. I think there is really a lot to work with."

She put the eraser of her pencil between her lips as she pondered it. Evelyn smiled and closed her chemistry book. She was content with her answers, at least for now. She would go over the paper tomorrow, when she felt more awake. For now, her and Kitty dug into the microfilms and newspaper articles about human trafficking. After a while of working in silence, Kitty spoke up.

"You doing okay? I know you really busted yourself up today."

"I'll be fine," said Evelyn, "Just a bit sore. It'll be better soon."

"Are you sure? I mean, you punched through reinforced concrete. That's pretty… badass. I mean, that's stuff that Logan and Piotr do."

"I know," Evelyn muttered, "I'm really not liking simulations. It's stressful."

"We don't really have a choice with simulations. We're going to get attacked by sentinels and other people. Even if we don't go into combat, we still have to know how to defend ourselves. It's a dangerous world out there."

"I think I would like it better if I actually learned things and was taught how to do things rather than just throwing me into the middle of a fight and expecting me to find a solution and then yelling at me when I don't do it exactly their way."

"So, it's about Scott," said Kitty, "You know, I'm sure he means well. I know he said once that he was orphaned when he was pretty young but he doesn't go into detail about it. Around here, lots of kids have complicated home lives. Some kids are runaways, others are disowned or emancipated because nobody at home wants to deal with them."

"I guess, I might be one of them. I know I am adopted. My dad, my adopted dad, doesn't know anything about my birth parents. He found me in the desert."

She had never thought too hard on the subject up to now but it made a scared feeling wriggle in her gut like an eel. Maybe her birth parents knew. Maybe that's why she was in the desert. Someone out there didn't want her. She was abandoned and left to die. If not for Phil...

"Hey," Kitty reached over, sensing her malese, "your dad really cares about you. I mean, heck, you two call and talk all the time. It doesn't matter what your birth parents thought of you, because you have a good thing now. And you know what? You're pretty cool. They're missing out on having an awesome person in their life. Their loss."

"Yeah," Evelyn brushed it off but the thought left her shaken. Somewhere out there, her birth mom and birth dad were living without her. Did they think of her at all? Or was she just a bad memory that they long ago purged from their lives? Did she have siblings? How many of them were like her, if any? Was she just an unhappy fluke, a cruel trick of nature? She turned back to her textbook to read about chemical equations and blot out the rainclouds that lingered on the edges of her mind.

"Kitty, if you thought you might be able to get rid of the mutation, would you do it?"

"I don't know," admitted Kitty with a shrug, "I… I know people might say that I should accept a cure for the sake of just blending in. The thing is, as nice as that would be, I don't know if that is what I would want."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, my mutation is a part of me. It's who I am. Getting rid of it is kind of like… I dunno, chopping off an arm or something."

Evelyn held in half a laugh, "Doesn't that sound a bit… dramatic?"

"I don't think so. My mutation is embedded in my genes," explained Kitty, "So it the coding for my arm. It is the same idea."

"I didn't think of it that way."

"I know some people might say otherwise, but there is no reason you shouldn't be proud of who you are. It is better than spending all your time hating yourself, I think."

"I don't think I hate myself," said Evelyn slowly, "I just… I don't know what is going on with me."

"We all went through that."

Evelyn went and looked over at Kitty, "Really?"

"Oh yeah," she smiled, "You know, we all had to figure out who we were and why this happened to us. You have a lot of questions. That's why you need us."

"Us?"

"The X-men," she smiled, "We're here to help each other."

Together, they tiredly made their way back up to the dorm room after dinner. It had been a long day and not particularly fun. At least Evelyn's knuckles were feeling better and she was relieved to remove the athletic tape she used to keep everything in place so it could finish healing. Part of her wanted to cry at the unfairness of everything but the greater part of her was tired. She wanted nothing more than to shower and get to bed. She started to take her earrings out when it slipped from her fingers and clattered down into the sink.

"Aw, crap," muttered Evelyn, leaning to look down into the drain. The earring was somewhere down in the blackness, probably lost until the sink was removed.

"What's up?" Kitty poked her head through the bathroom wall. Evelyn had gotten used to the fact that her privacy was basically gone now that she had a roommate, and especially a roommate who could walk through walls at will. Part of her still jumped every time.

"Lost my earring down the drain."

"That's it?" Kitty walked in, "Hold on."

She knelt by the trap in the drain, fingers ghosting through the metal pipe and feeling around in the darkness. Kitty turned up to her, making a face.

"I immediately regret this. Kind of gross down here. Sorry about all the hair."

"We both have long hair so I don't think one of us is more guilty than the other," Evelyn shrugged, "Come to think of it, every girl has long hair."

"Except Storm."

"True."

"Got it!" Kitty's face lit up as she pulled her hand out from the drain and the small earring sparkled in the light. "It is supposed to look like that?"

Evelyn leaned in to get a better look at the earring. Somewhere during the fall, the gemstone separated from the fitting to reveal a small orb behind the facets. It was tiny, only about the size and shape of a lentil. After a moment or two of staring puzzled at the object, Evelyn realized what it is.

"I can't believe this," she grumbled, "That's a camera."

"That's a really tiny camera. Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I saw something like this in the lab once. Dad must," she blinked, "Dad must've put it in there."

"Wow," said Kitty, peering down into the lens, "So he's watching us right now?"

"Probably," Evelyn pointed her finger at the lens and felt a sharp zap of energy flick across her fingers. "But not anymore. I think I drained the battery. So, I'll check out the other earring and we will have privacy once again."

She unpinned her other earring and stared into the sparkling center. "Bye, Papa!"

Miles away, Phil stared in shock as the feed went dead. Maria snickered from the chair next to him, sipping her coffee. Her feet were put up on the desk, the picture of relaxation.

"Don't tell Bobbi," pleaded Phil, "I'll never hear the end of it."

"Oh, I don't know," laughed Maria as she stood up to get some more coffee, "I think Bobbi has an 'I-Told-You-So' dance all ready for this situation.

Phil groaned as Maria snickered all the way to the break room.


	17. Pt 2 Ch 5: Field Trip

The town of North Salem, according to Professor X, had a long history of tolerance. Originally a Quaker settlement, it was inhabited by all sorts of people who didn't fit in anywhere else. During the Civil War, it became a haven for freed and runaway slaves. It only made sense that it would become a safe haven for mutants and assorted wayward souls.

It was a somewhat bohemian community with small craftsmen style houses and quaint little shops along maple-lined streets. Red and orange leaves fluttered across the main drag through town. It was quaint, the sort of place where people from Manhattan or the Hamptons would go for an afternoon trip. There were tiny cafes, produce stands, and a real butcher shop which smelled like hickory smoke and dried blood. Little mom and pop antique stores proudly displayed glittering baubles and rare trinkets. Evelyn fell in love with a teeny corner bookstore wedged between the coffee shop and a shoe store. She was drawn in by the aroma of musty old books and the fresh ink and crisp pages of new releases.

For the sake of supporting socialization, students from the academy were allowed to go into town on excursions as a class with a teacher or in small groups if they had a chaperone over eighteen years old or a parent to keep an eye on things. Phil was only too happy to take Evelyn and Kitty out for a day trip. Clint tagged along, as he often did with things involving Evelyn. It was obvious the two missed each other's company. Clint regaled her with tales of SHIELD training camp. He finally reached high enough clearance that he could go on short missions with a large team. He bent her ear until Phil shooed him off so he could spend some quality time with his daughter. Kitty dragged Clint away to explore the shops.

Father and daughter found refuge in a tiny coffee shop called "True Brew," owned by a pair of old hippies. The walls were painted vivid orange with sunlit gold and royal purple accents. A mishmash of furniture filled the seating area: plush armchairs, antique tables and chairs, and a few older pieces of questionable integrity. The aroma of fresh baked pastries and roasting coffee filled the air. Scones and muffins filled the front display case. Today's special was blackberry muffins topped with crystalline sugar. It smelled glorious.

"Are we going to talk about the..."

"The camera that you were using to spy on me?" Evelyn finished her father's sentence for him. "What is there to talk about, Papa?"

"You know I was just trying to keep an eye on you, make sure that nothing… bad happened to you," clarified Phil, "I wasn't…"

"You know, you could just call or something. I don't keep things from you, Papa."

"Sure, but, I'm not stupid, Evelyn," insisted Phil, "You're a young teen. I know that kids your age do things that they don't always want their parents to know. Like, simulations class."

Evelyn groaned, throwing a hand up to her forehead, "Oh, God, how much of that did you see?"

"All of it," said Phil over his coffee, "Kitty's right. This is all stuff you need to know about. But, it is dangerous. I am concerned, as a father."

"But you aren't going to do anything to stop me?"

"Well, I would rather you rode skateboards and played in a punk band because that would be way less dangerous than making your way into an active war zone. But, no, I'm not going to do anything to stop you. Like I said, you need to know about how to take care of yourself because those things are going to come after you. I don't want to scare you, but it's the truth."

"Can't you guys do something about these things? I mean, it's persecution."

"They're not our robots," said Phil simply, "SHIELD is trying to lobby congress and at least bring a majority over toward not out and out hunting down mutants. It's not much, but just doing that is proving surprisingly difficult."

"What on earth is their problem?" hissed Evelyn, "What have mutants ever done to them?"

"It's not a simple answer," said Phil diplomatically, "We're finding that out. And we're trying to address concerns as they arise but you just can't please everyone. When you are dealing with people who won't change their minds, finding a solution everyone can live with is next to impossible. So we have to try to work on a grassroots level, raise awareness about mutant rights and get people to really consider their leaders and their position on the matter. That's all we can do. We're nearing an election cycle and we shall see if our work pans out. Other than that, it's the unstoppable force hitting the immobile object."

Evelyn pouted but the grouchy look on her face soon abated when Kitty and Clint came back from shopping. Clint wore his trademark flirty smile which was usually reserved for pretty SHIELD agents and damsels in distress. Kitty had several paper shopping bags slung over her shoulder and Clint held two or three himself. They had just purchased their coffee and pulled up chairs to join father and daughter at their table, even though there was barely enough room to squeeze. Clint had his typical americano in hand (Kitty called it "watery coffee") and Kitty had a macchiato.

"Hey, I got us something cool," said Kitty, holding up a bag from the local drugstore, "I got us glue-on nails. I know yours were busted up badly in simulations the other day. So, you know, at least this way we can have some pretty nails again."

"Did you really punch through a reinforced concrete wall?" asked Clint, his eyes wide with awe.

Evelyn smiled and shrugged one shoulder, "Yeah."

"That is so freaking awesome!"

"I know!" said Kitty, "He didn't believe me!

"I didn't say I didn't believe you," he clarified, "I knew she was super strong. I just didn't realize she could wreck shit up like that."

"I don't _wreck shit_ ," insisted Evelyn, raising a finger, "I was raised better than that."

Phil beamed and smiled into his coffee. They talked until the sun passed the apogee and started to sink into the trees. Eventually, Phil and Clint had to leave for home. Evelyn hugged her Papa as they prepared to leave.

"Kitty and Clint hit it off," whispered Evelyn.

"Clint has enough distractions on his plate back at camp," muttered Phil in reply. They laughed quietly to each other before breaking their hug and returning to the mansion.

"I might be back later this week," instructed Phil, "I need to speak with Professor X about something."

"Anything I need to know about?" asked Evelyn casually as she threw away her empty coffee cup.

"Perhaps. But right now a lot of things are up in the air. And a lot of it is still top-secret."

"I figured as much, since you are being so vague."

"I don't mean to be, but it is part of the job. Before I go, I have something that I wanted to give you," Phil reached into a paper grocery bag. Before he pulled it out, he held up a hand to preface his statement. "I expect you to be responsible with this. It's a tool for you to use to help with keeping in touch and to help you in emergencies."

He handed a large, bright red Nokia cell phone, the size of a brick, to Evelyn. She gasped, smiling wide. "Are you _serious_?"

"Don't let Clint eat up your minutes," he ordered, "I know he will try."

They said their goodbyes and Evelyn watched once again as her family vanished into the groves of trees. She was used to the distance now. It didn't pain her like it did on the first day. But she still felt hollow waving goodbye. It was like a part of her heart drove off with them.

It took a few days for Evelyn to find out what Phil was being so evasive about. On Wednesday, the new strike teams were summoned to the meeting room for a special briefing. The meeting room was actually a large auditorium located in the basement labs. There were twelve rows of deep seats with comfy navy cushions facing a small ramped stage with a heavy wood podium. Everything was dark blue and charcoal gray. Recessed lighting bathed the room in soft white light. Ramps made the entire area easily accessible to Professor X as well as easy on student's knees.

He sat at the front, behind the podium. The light glistened off his bald head. Evelyn took a seat in the middle back so she almost missed a familiar face just behind Professor X. But once she noticed him, she was delighted to see her father.

"Welcome everyone," said Professor X and a hush rippled through the crowd, "This will be a task we need everyone's undivided attention. It directly pertains to mutants which is why our students were referred. I will now defer to Agent Carlton for more information about the situation."

Professor X, wheeling his chair to the side so Phil could take the stand. He paused to smile at his daughter who was waving frantically from a spot next to Kitty, "I want to start by saying thank you for allowing us to perform this joint mission. Some of you probably know that various parts of the United States government have been keeping their eye on the mutant population, most specifically the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants and the Hellfire club. Prior to this date, they have been purely a domestic issue but, we have received reports of Magneto bringing in mutants from other countries and some of them may be here illegally. So, they have now become my problem."

Evelyn glanced around the room to see how everyone was reacting to the news. Hank was intrigued, adjusting his glasses on his nose. Logan leaned back in his chair with his boots on the chair in front of him, blowing smoke rings toward the ceiling. Scott's lip was contorted into a frown but that was nothing new. Jean looked pensive, but concerned. Evelyn wondered if her and Scott were fighting as they seemed to be strained.

"I wanted to bring your team in for a couple of different reasons. The first and most important being that two of the mutants we know for sure he has brought into the country are minors. We have yet to determine if they left wherever they came from of their own free will or if they were coerced. In any case, they may need a place to call home until we figure out what to do with them and where they came from. Professor Xavier has offered space in the school for them if it should come to that."

He took a deep breath before continuing, "Also, our intelligence has led us to believe that Magneto is planning something. His target is the Supreme Court. Today, they will be hearing a case regarding if mutant solitary confinement is considered 'cruel and unusual punishment.' Obviously, there will be large-scale rallies from many concerned parties. Standard police forces will be on hand, but we all know that isn't going to be enough if the situation goes sideways."

"And it _will_ go sideways," grumbled Logan in a voice so low it was almost inaudible.

"There will be civilians on site," continued Phl, ignoring Logan's commentary, "But I believe that your team will be more effective in containing and confronting the Brotherhood if they try something than the military."

"So, the military is not going to be on scene?" asked Scott, eyebrows knitting together.

Phil clarified, "Via congressional order, they are supposed to protect the Supreme Court and prevent and harm from coming to any of the federal personnel. But that means the police on the scene are the only ones looking out for the civilians. We both know their force will not be enough."

"That means, at least in part, we're going to have to protect the protesters who want to see us locked up," noted Jean. Scott's face further contorted from mildly annoyed into a grouchy sneer. It was hard to tell if they were in speaking terms again or not since Scott usually seemed in some state of grouchiness.

"That is correct," clarified Phil. "But also supporters. I know of at least one human-mutant activist group staging a counter protest."

"Which won't make Magneto happy either," finished Logan, "We get the picture. Everything Magneto doesn't like is in one convenient hub for him to take out... blah, blah... when do we get started?"

"Right away," instructed Phil, "We have a SHIELD strike team prepared to go on site with the expressed purpose of supporting the police force and protecting civilians. You will join them. A small section of you will be focused on intelligence gathering. I will brief you separately."

Evelyn smiled. She liked the idea of working with SHIELD agents. It was like being home again. And if her dad was going to be involved, all the better.

"Papa, is this the thing you were being so evasive about earlier this week?" She asked as the briefing wound down and students started meeting with their respective teams.

"I had to be careful," he insisted, "and I needed to make sure you and your fellow students would be ready for this mission. Xavier and I had a lot to discuss."

"Your father has been discussing this with us for some time," noted Professor X, "There have been a large number of bumps in the road leading to today. Congressional bias being first and foremost."

"SHIELD is different than congress," said Phil, "My department cares little to none regarding what the students genetics are like. We care about competency. If they can do the job, then they could have eight arms, twenty-one eyes, and blue prehensile hair for all I care."

"Are you in need of someone with those exact specifications?"

"It certainly wouldn't hurt," said Phil with a bit of a chuckle, "The extra arms would certainly come in handy."

Evelyn held in a groan at the dad-joke from hell. After the debrief, everyone went to their rooms to change clothes and were to report downstairs for equipment check. Kitty handed her a folded garment.

"Here. Rogue wanted me to pass this along to you. It came for you last week."

"A uniform?"

"Yeah. You're going to be fighting out there with us today, so Professor X thought it would be a good time to show your colors."

Evelyn held up the outfit, it was a charcoal jumpsuit with yellow thread on the seams which secured a hidden zipper. The traditional X logo criss crossed her front from the hip to the shoulder in a rich blue hue. The thighs had pockets that looked like it held enough room to put a few batteries belt looked like a SHIELD agent's belt with additional pockets containing a few medical supplies for the field and some basic survival gear. She looked up at Kitty overwhelmed by the support she had received over the past year.

"Your Dad had a little hand in the design along with the professor. Get changed. Your boots are over by the door."

Kitty wore a similar outfit. Her consisted of clingy pants made of a stretchy material and knee high boots with thick soles. She had a yellow and black zip-up jacket. It took Evelyn a moment to realize but the yellow stitching on the jacket formed an "x" across Kitty's body not unlike her own. Her abundant hair was pulled up into a high ponytail and bound with a red scrunchie.

Downstairs, other students that would be Evelyn's teammates for the mission stopped and stared at her. The uniform made her look lean, fit and ready for action. Her customary fishtail braid rested over her shoulder as she went over to Rogue who handed her a few ion batteries for her pockets.

"Looking good Light Bright."

"Thanks…" She gave Rogue a strange look. She was more familiar with being called 'Cactus Baby' than 'Light Bright.' She noticed the batteries that she was going to use, "Are these computer batteries?" she asked, amused.

"Fully charged and they're supposed to last for seven hours. Maybe it'll last you an hour or two. Maybe."

They boarded the plane. Evelyn was on a team with Logan, Rogue, Kitty, Kurt, and Bobby as well as a few other students she was less familiar with.

The jet entered the city airspace and slowed down as it reached its point of destination. The team could see chaos on the white stairs in front of the court. Logan cursed and stood up as Magneto's group made its move towards the crowd. They weren't a large group, maybe twenty people in total. Although, Evelyn supposed there could be more of the Brotherhood scattered around at strategic points. The SHIELD jets were already unloading a few blocks away and taking up sniper positions before the main team moved in.

"We need to protect the masses. Light Bright, you think you could cover the crowds with those batteries?" he asked walking up to her. She was too nervous to remark at the new nickname of 'Light Bright' everyone seemed to have given her. She wondered how she missed the meeting to decide on a code name.

"I can project the energy around me," reasoned Evelyn, trying to remember science class and positive and negative magnetic charges and how that worked with electricity, "But I don't know if it will work as a shield. I've never tried."

"We'll have to find out as we go," growled Logan, grabbing her by the scruff of the neck and tossing her unceremoniously from the plane while they were still several feet off the ground. She flailed her arms as the pavement came up to meet her. She scraped her hands, wincing at the sudden jolt of pain as the pavement cracked under her from the sudden impact. She would heal quickly, especially once she got into the thick of things. Kurt materialized to her left and Kitty dropped down to her right, phasing through the plane. She stumbled as she rolled onto the pavement.

"Guess cats do land on their feet," commented Kurt even though nobody laughed. "Just breaking the tension…"

The noise on the ground was deafening so Kurt's words were all but lost. Several groups of people were screeching so it became a jumbled mess of white noise and static hiss. It sounded like the two groups were within minutes of dissolving into fisticuffs. There were several layers of signs with pasted-together slogans but the wove together into a patchwork of jumbled, kaleidoscopic color. It became difficult to tell where one batch of protesters began and the other ended. It was disorienting, until she heard one batch to her left grow suddenly quieter.

The Brotherhood parted the crowd like the Red Sea. A few stray protesters tried to get in their faces but there was a visible aura surrounding them, shimmering red and gold. People cowered back from the light and the noise, faces filled with fear. For a moment, Evelyn became concerned that they had a mutant among them who could make shields like hers and then what would they do? She took a deep breath. She would have to deal with that when it happened.

Magneto hovered about four feet off the ground. Evelyn was immediately reminded of Darth Vader with his billowing cape and the heavy helmet surrounding his head and hiding most of his facial features in pitch black shadow. Her palms sweat a bit but she reached into the pocket of her belt to pull out one of the computer batteries. The energy flooded her body so she felt jittery and excitable. With practiced ease, she threw up a wall of energy in front of her. All those frustrating combat classes were finally starting to pay off. The blue light shimmered, providing a barrier between Magneto and the crowd of protesters. The hair on her arms stood up as energy angrily snapped around her. She finally started to sit up and look around her. The crowd stared right at her. It wasn't every day a girl landed from a jet and created a shield of pure energy around you. The ultimatum was set.

"I really hope they just turn around and leave," muttered Evelyn hopefully, "because this only lasts as long as the batteries."

"Yeah, that ain't gonna happen," said Logan. Evelyn jumped, not hearing him coming up behind her and he was a heavy man. It must have been masked by the din of the crowd. "Best you can hope to do is minimize the damage. Keep it going, Light Bright, I got your back."

He drew his claws, a trickle of blood seeping from his knuckles. It healed so quickly that she couldn't even see the wound. He put out his cigar under his boot and settled into a feral, hunched posture, daring anyone to come anywhere near them. The metal blades glinted in the blue light, cold and deadly. As long as he was there, nobody would mess with her, not even the anti-mutant protesters. Nobody wanted to try to cross a guy with metal knives sticking out of his fists or someone who quite literally smelled like his namesake, a wolverine.

Evelyn couldn't see Magneto's expression under the shadow of his helmet. She could only see part of his lower lip. It appeared somewhat amused but she couldn't tell if it was a smile or just a smirk. But he raised a hand and flipped one of the army tanks. The gigantic piece of metal smashed into the pavement with a resonant clang. Chunks of concrete flew into the air and collided with the energy shield. It pulverized into gravel and dust, scattering to the wind. She held her hands up, trying not to let her willpower waver. She clenched the battery tightly and continued to feed the shield.

"Keep it up," urged Logan, "stick here. Rogue, take the left flank and tell Gambit to take right. We got to stop their charge so we can take pressure off of Light Bright."

They took up their posts. More concrete was being picked up and tossed by various mutants flanking Magneto. The shield took care of some. The jets shot down a few bits. Kitty and Kurt neutralized the rest. So far, the crowd had quieted in shock and fear but nobody was actually harmed. Evelyn continued to stare forward and focus on the flow of energy along her hands.

Meanwhile, at the rear of the crowd, Phil was overwhelmed directing agents left and right. The first round were already posted on surrounding buildings for scouting and sniping. Clint had a full quiver and he was proud of his "crowd control" arrows. He developed them himself: nonlethal and long distance. His pride was the taser arrow, containing a small electrical shock. Nothing deadly, but enough to get people to stop in their tracks. He also went to great pains to design net arrows, air compression arrows, flash-bang arrows, and sonic arrows which let out a screeching noise upon impact which did a lot to disperse an angry crowd.

Phil could see the shimmering blue shield his daughter threw up, hearing the deep thrum of the energy resonating through the air. It was big, bigger than he had ever seen. School was doing some good and teaching her skills she needed, even if the fact that his daughter was becoming a weapon left him still pretty nervous. The shield was active for a good ten minutes already and it didn't look like it would die out any time soon. Strategically, it was a godsend. She provided ample cover for agents to get into place and coordinate with local police. That was until they heard the rush of airborne projectiles over the airspace and a sickening crash a few blocks away.

"We have sentinels incoming," barked one of the scouts over the communications.

"Who authorized that?" spat Phil into his headset, "I thought we were cleared!"

"Apparently not," returned the agent.

Phil turned, cursing under his breath. His daughter was right on the front lines, in the path of a monster sent to destroy her. He got on the headset, hoping to get patched unto Fury before anything and could happen. Fear made his heartbeat echo in his head. He feared by the time he spoke with Fury, it would be too late and Evelyn would be in the line of fire… or worse.

"Clint," he said into his short wave radio while he waited for the line to the director to open, "I need you to do something very illegal for me."

He could almost hear the boy's ears perking up at the idea. There was a little bit of glee in his voice as he replied, "Yes, sir! What's my directive?"

"I need you to help the X-men keep the front lines clear. Make sure those sentinels don't get anywhere near Ev... anywhere near the front line."

As if on cue, the groaning of metal echoed between the buildings and made their way into view. Some of the protesters screamed and a ripple of panic shot through the crowd. Evelyn's shield flickered for a second as the looming metal beasts drew into view.

"I've got this," smiled Clint as the sights lined up with his target. He inhaled. Exhaled. And his fingers twitched to send the arrow flying through the air at impossible speed.

Evelyn saw the first arrow strike the front sentinel. Blue lightning shot across the surface. It must have been one of the taser-arrows he bragged about. One could only hope there were a few more of those in his back pocket. The monster struggled to stand upright and eventually toppled over, pulling down power lines and toppling streetlamps. A few more arrows shot through the air and found their marks in the eye sockets of the other sentinels. The blinded machines flailed: cars flipped, people raced down the roads screaming, and one of them hit a fire hydrant so it erupted in a curving arc of steel blue water. Bobby froze up the spouting water so it didn't cause any problems. But a sea of slick ice adorned the pavement.

"Change of plans," ordered Logan, "Light Bright. Take a knee and save your batteries. We're going to isolate the battle against the sentinels. You have a few minutes to reset. Everyone else, pull back and take cover. Let's see if we can keep Magneto busy with those things for a few minutes."

Evelyn dropped the shield, relieved for the break. If anyone responded to Logan, she didn't hear it. She was starting to get cross-eyed from focusing so hard on the shield. Her body was so flooded with energy, she could see the light rippling just under her skin even under the noonday sun. The familiar, sickly sweet metallic taste filled her mouth.

A few more arrows whizzed through the air and struck the sentinels. But it did seem that Magneto was engaging the monstrous beings and less focused on directly attacking. The robots crumpled at his fist, metal shattering with a scream. Another sentinel was surrounded with hazy red light and it slowly broke apart, piece by piece. It was as though dozens of tiny hands went to work disassembling each individual screw and scattering them to the four winds.

Evelyn took a deep breath and fumbled for a new battery to draw power from. She didn't have to be told Magneto's next step. To her it seemed obvious. The shredded metal was quick and easy shrapnel. If the shield wasn't replaced soon, the entire crowd could get cut to a bloody pulp by a hailstorm of knives. She wasn't the only one to notice. Phil radioed his observations over to Clint.

"Take out Magneto. Nonlethal, please," he ordered, "We have director's permission to bring him in."

"Yes, sir," replied Clint. He fumbled through his bag of arrows, looking for a suitable one. He settled on a flash-bang arrow followed by a net arrow. Stun, and then ensnare. His net was also made of nylon so, no metal. With a smirk he lined up his sights. And let the flash-bang fly.

Upon impact, a tiny chemical reaction ignited the tip. Like a match striking the side of the box, pure white light exploded around the small crowd of the Brotherhood mutants. At least two hit the pavement right away. Clint had the net arrow nocked and flying directly at Magneto before the flare died down. Using shrapnel, Magneto blocked the nylon net with ease. His eyes glared up onto the building right where Clint was perched. He ducked under the cover of the eaves.

"That didn't work." He muttered, trying to form a plan "B."

If there was one, it took far too long for formulate. Magneto raised his hand and the shards of ruined metal rose from the ground into the air. Jagged edges caught the afternoon light and shone like polished brass. Knife-like edges pointed toward the crowd, quivering eagerly in his grasp. The serrated blades honed for piercing and slicing awaited his command like a miniature army.

In a panic, Evelyn dug through her pockets for the other computer battery and held it in her other hand. She threw up the new shield. Concentrating, she tried to extend the stretch of blue light up and over the crowd so it arched like an ocean wave just before crashing onto the shore. She was expending a lot of energy but it didn't matter. The people would be protected even though a headache was starting to creep in, squeezing her temples like her head was stuck in a vice.

As predicted, a spray of metal parts shot toward the sea of blue light, but melted upon impact. Silvery sludge oozed down the barrier and pooled at the bottom harmlessly. A fine flaking of paint chips and computer parts crackled and popped when it came in contact with the shield but didn't pass through. The crowd gasped and screamed at each loud cracking noise but as near as Evelyn could tell, nobody was harmed. Her batteries, however, were starting to loose juice. The much larger shield left her drained.

"Never did that before," she muttered, putting her hands on her knees for a moment to catch her breath.

Logan turned to look at her in the eye, "You okay, kid? Or you need to tap out?"

"I need a break," gasped Evelyn as she retracted the barrier, "Just a few minutes."

Logan got on the wireless to coordinate movements to make up for the lack of protective cover. Evelyn got down onto her knees so she could catch her breath and refocus. She could still feel a bit of energy in the batteries but it wouldn't be enough to do a massive shield like before. Fortunately, it seemed like the majority of the crowd was being evacuated by the local police. The Brotherhood moved forward and was clashing directly with the X-men. Jean was catching and throwing back chunks of concrete and bits of metal. Scott was tangling with a leggy mutant with a long, green tongue. Kitty and Kurt were nowhere to be found. Evelyn could only hope they were both okay.

"Can you get yourself to cover?" asked Logan, grabbing her by the shoulder. Evelyn heard the words but they didn't quite make sense. When he opened his mouth, static flooded out and stuffed her ears full of nonsense.

"Huh?"

"Can you get yourself to cover?" he repeated, irritated, "Rogue needs backup. Can you handle yourself?"

"Yeah, yeah,' she groaned, getting herself to her wobbly knees. She felt groggy, drained, like she was just waking up in the morning. Somehow she stumbled to the steps and was able to crouch behind a large segment of concrete. Vaguely she saw police cars lined up, creating a barrier between the crowd and the skirmish of mutants. The police blues were speckled with white and royal blue of SHIELD agents. They hastened the crowd away, toward safety, leaving a scattering of picketing signs and trash littering the empty concrete, caught in the wind.

Far away, Phil scanned the front lines for his daughter. He couldn't see her blue shield anymore and it concerned him. Maybe she was in the middle of the fight but part of him couldn't let go of the fact that she might be seriously hurt. If she was injured, he needed to try to find her and get her to safety. He fretted. Maria noticed.

"I'm sure she's fine," she whispered as they took up a defensive post among the local police, "They won't let anything bad happen to her."

"She's in there somewhere," he fretted, "And I don't know…"

"Hey," she ordered, "If you are really concerned, put Barton on search and rescue."

It was a shockingly easy task for someone with the eyesight of Clint Barton. He picked out the dot of blue and black hidden behind a slab of concrete on the edge of the fight. Torn between duty to work and duty to family, Clint sighed and pulled the grappling hook from his belt. and hooked it into the concrete wall.

"Barton?" barked someone over his radio but he ignored it and rappelled down the wall. There was a SHIELD jeep waiting and he promptly hijacked it, spinning down back alleys and narrow side roads around the conflict to get to his friend.

"Come on," he muttered, pushing on the gas, "Come on, you piece of shit."

Phil, meanwhile, was trying to reach Barton on his radio, "Clint, pick up! Come on!"

He turned off the radio.

Before his very eyes, he watched Magneto break through the line of conflict and drifted forward toward the barricade of police cars. Several police had drawn their weapons, waiting for the command to fire. Phil shook his head. It would do no good. You can't fight a guy who manipulates metal with metal bullets. Why was this so hard for people to understand? Fortunately, a jeep came out of nowhere and screeched up behind Magneto. The door flew open and Barton raced out, sprinting at full tilt toward a chunk of concrete wedged into the Supreme Court steps.

"Evey!" he called.

"Clint?"

"Oh my God! You're okay!"

"I'm fine, Just tired. Those shields don't come easy."

"I thought you were hurt. Your dad thought you were hurt!"

"Relax, relax, I'm fine," she looked up, "How are you getting out of here?"

"Uh," he peeked his head out from behind the concrete and saw as Magneto drew closer to the line of police cars. He was already knocking them out of the way. The police were firing but it didn't seem like the bullets were doing any good. But that was just to be expected.

"Yeah, what are we going to do about that?" asked Evelyn.

"I think I've got an arrow that'll work," said Clint, digging through his bag. He selected two, placing one in his mouth and notching the other. He squinted and let the first arrow fly. Upon impact, a small chemical reaction in the head released a blinding flash of white light right at Magneto's feet. The man stepped back for a moment and a cry of shock rippled through the crowd. He notched the other arrow quickly and followed it up. It was a sticky arrow containing a foam which hardened upon contact with air. It could encapsulate the unsuspecting target in seconds. But he did not expect the arrow to pause in midair and the fall listless onto the concrete.

"Aw, piss," cussed Clint, "I think the trigger mighta been metal."

"Way to go, buddy," commentated Evelyn without mirth.

Clint nocked another arrow but didn't get a chance to fire it. A yank of magnetism jerked at the bow and it shattered at top and bottom, the string hanging limply in his hand and the shattered pieces falling onto the ground.

"Oh shit," he muttered.

"Brilliant," Evelyn sighed her mind racing as Magneto advanced, "You have another of those flashy arrows?"

"Flash-bangs," he insisted, handing her one.

"Whatever. These detonate on impact, right?"

"Right."

"Good."

Before Clint could ask anything, Evelyn took off running toward the line of police cars. Clint's eyes opened wide. This was exactly the sort of thing that he was trying to stop from happening. He called after her but she didn't stop. He felt around his holster, drawing his small service sidearm. It wasn't the same. He felt terribly naked without his bow.

"Evelyn!"

She didn't listen. There was an opening and she was going to take it. She kept a battery clenched in her one hand and the flashy arrow in her other hand. She created a small shield to protect herself from the police bullets while she slammed the arrow into the ground.

"HEY!" she yelled as the arrow impacted and there was a brilliant flash of light. She didn't anticipate that the light would be disorienting to her as well as everyone around her so for a moment, her vision was completely obscured. It suddenly came into focus but there were little black dots floating in front of her eyes. The shield went down when she was temporarily blinded but at least it seemed the police stopped firing.

Magneto turned toward her. She was all alone in the middle of the battlefield, standing between the line of agents and police and Magneto. Her heart pounded in her chest and she prayed for someone, anyone, on her team to come and help her.

She replaced the shield but it was a sad shadow of the massive, towering wave of blue she threw up before. Power drained from the batteries and soon she would be vulnerable, vulnerable and the only thing standing between Magneto and his target. Evelyn dropped down onto one knee, trying to keep the shield going even as her vision started to blur from exhaustion. Lights around them flickered, shorting out in a flurry of sparks as she tried everything she possibly could to maintain power.

Magneto pushed back, his powers grabbing at her own and trying to yank control away from her. The shield erupted in a haze of shimmering green, flickering like the northern lights. A loud whoosh accompanied the light show, as well as a deep rumble that shook the buildings and made gravel skitter over the pavement. A few startled policemen fired their weapons in the direction of the light.

"Not helping," grunted Evelyn as she watched the bullets melt against the shimmering light show.

" _Create a current_ ," said Xavier's voice heavily in the back of her head, " _Direct the current around you_."

"I can't… maintain this…" grunted Evelyn as she forced the energy to swirl around her like a hurricane. It began to waiver and pockets of the shield began to be exposed. She could feel power being wrenched away from her but all she could think of was the line of people behind her. Evelyn focused her concentration, her body scrambling to find any source of power.

" _The power line,_ " Xavier's voice in her head instructed.

She could sense the live power line just to her right. It snarled and yowled like an angry cat. Mentally she pushed to keep the shield up as she sidestepped toward it. She felt warm flow of blood down her lip, realizing that she had a nosebleed from the exertion. At last she saw the exposed wire snapping at her feet. Her hand grasped the raw end of the wire and she steadied herself against the rush of energy.

Adrenaline and shock engulfed her senses as the power line sizzled against her skin. She choked and then blinked, her body renewed, and the shield doubled in strength. She hesitated for just a moment, lost in the roar of the magnetism against the shield and the aura of green dancing before her eyes. Her eyes shone bright blue and her skin was sparkling like the milky way. She was a being of pure light, glorious and terrible.

Fear seeped from her pores. She felt sick. There was really no plan beyond just standing in the way and keeping people from being harmed. Now, she was stuck in the middle. Stuck in a stalemate between opposing forces of nature. Every part of her brain cried out for help, for someone to assist her, for someone to stand by her side, to help her figure out what to do.

"Erik," said Professor X. Evelyn wasn't sure for a moment if she heard him in her head or not. It was so hard to tell. But then she heard the crunch of motorized wheels on the gravel behind her. Professor Xavier pulled up alongside her just short of the light show. In the distance, she could see her teammates racing toward the standoff. They were battle-ready but frayed around the edges.

"Erik, it is time to stop," said Professor X neatly and evenly, "There is nobody here worth your trouble."

There was a tickle in the back of her head, " _You may drop the shield, Evelyn. He is done fighting."_

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." and then his voice echoed around her head, " _Erik and I have history. He is willing to speak with me. You are needed to attend to your teammate's injuries."_

As if on cue, Magneto dropped his hands and the glowing green light along her shield abated and then vanished into the wind. She hesitantly dropped the shield and wiped the dripping blood off her lip. The wound was healed but it was still left a mess. The team looked at her, realizing she was still holding the live wire, its sparks fizzing out and soaking into her skin. She tossed it away from the crowd and it screeched on the pavement. Xavier and Magneto backed off to the side to discuss something in private.

Some of the Brotherhood and the X-men were bloodied from the fight but nobody appeared severely injured. Sentinels, or the burned and savagely torn apart remnants, smoldered in the background. It seemed the battle was over. At the very least, nobody had any fight left in them. The police helped tend to the evacuated protesters. Evelyn heard that a few received minor injuries, cuts and scrapes but there was nothing serious. Evelyn rested her hand on the exposed circuit board of a sentinel so she could heal the cut across Bobby's hand.

"You'll be fine," she whispered, "It's just a scratch."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I've seen much worse." It was a bit of a lie but it seemed to make him feel better so it was worth it. "Who else needs looked at?"

"Kitty has a sprained ankle," said Bobby, "Or something like that. She took a bit of a fall and her ankle hurts now. Jean got a bump on the head from that one dude with the earthquake powers. She was knocked out for a second but she seemed to be doing fine. That's all I saw."

"I'll check her out. Do me a favor?" said Evelyn, "Give me some ice and keep Kitty's ankle cold until I can get to it. I want to make sure Jean isn't concussed first."

"You sure I am not so critically wounded I can't do my homework?" Bobby's hand healed up before their eyes. "Guess not."

Evelyn chuckled a bit but her voice gave out quickly as she turned toward her next patient. Jean was sitting on the curb, talking with Logan. Evey took a deep breath and walked forward.

"Jean? Bobby told me you got hit on the head, are you okay? Is there anything I can help with?"

"I'm fine," she said, but Evelyn did see a bruise on her cheek. She subtly flicked her hand so a spark danced over her skin and the bruise instantly darkened to purple and then melded into greenish-yellow. "Really. I'll be okay. What about you? I mean, you picked up a power line!"

"It's no big deal. I heal from this stuff fast."

Logan chuckled knowingly but the humor was lost on the two women.

"It was really reckless," she said, "You could have called for backup before going out and taking on Magneto by yourself."

"We can't get a radio to work on her," explained Logan, "She drains the batteries too fast."

"Still, you really needed to be more careful," insisted Jean, "We're a team."

"I understand. But, I just did what anyone would do. I just… I had to do something," sighed Evelyn but she turned and left before Jean could say anything else.

Why couldn't she just be happy that she brought this to an end? The conflict was over. Lives were saved. Wasn't that enough? The energy racing through her veins left her buzzing but the physical effort of fighting made her feel weak in the knees. She also couldn't shake the feeling of dread she felt when she was gorged full of energy from the power line. It was like being about ready to explode at any moment. It was more power than she had in her body at any one time. She felt like a bomb, primed to explode.

Her feet led her to a section of overturned pavement not far away. She could tend to her own wounds, rest her weary feet, and attempt to sort out her confusion over her powers. Her solace was short lived as a shadow passed over her. She was shocked to look up and see a towering man, clad in red with a shiny helmet on his head, glinting in the afternoon sun. Her body instantly went on the defensive. Magneto stood in front of her with arms crossed and a stern expression. He didn't speak right off the bat. Steely eyes raked across her body, trying to examine her. She felt scared, heart thudding in her chest. She wanted her father, Clint, Logan, someone to come and find her.

"Who are you, child?" He asked. His voice was cool and even, like a pane of glass.

Evelyn didn't want to answer. She didn't know if she could answer. Her mouth was dry and her tongue felt like it weighed a ton. Eventually she managed to summon up her voice.

"They call me... L-light Bright," she stammered. Although she winced at the name, it was who she was.

"Erik…" Professor X wheeled up next to her.

"You've hidden this one, Charles," said Magneto, turning his head to look at her, "Where exactly did you pick her up?"

Clint and her father were probably looking for her now so Evelyn took this moment to excuse herself and disappear.

She didn't get far before she was, once again, approached by a stranger. A girl stood in front of her. Her eyes were wide, midnight blue, and shining in the amber sun. Her curly mahogany hair billowed around her pudgy, childish face. Her youth was most shocking. The little girl couldn't be older than ten years old. She wore a cute red flowered dress and a pink pullover cardigan. What was she doing in the middle of this chaos?

"You're different. You're not like the others," said the strange girl in a heavy Slavic accent, "I can't read you. I can't…"

She held up a hand, waving it around in front of Evelyn's face. The two girls stood face to face, or as close as possible as there was easily nine inches difference between their heights. Her eyes danced with ethereal magenta light. The swirls passed in front of Evelyn's face and she could feel the warmth in the air just in front of her nose. But it dissipated into the evening air, harmless as smoke.

"You are blocking my magic."

"Is this a… bad thing?" asked Evelyn hesitantly.

The other girl looked at her for a moment. She appeared as confused as Evelyn. She finally stepped back, shrugging her shoulders. "I don't know."

Another voice shouted out from the distance. "Wanda! We're leaving!"

The girl turned but looked back over her shoulder toward Evelyn. She seemed stretched in two different directions, overwhelmed by curiosity on the one hand and pulled by some kind of obligation toward the Brotherhood. But then a blur of light obscured her for a brief second and she was gone, disappeared into the evening gloom.

"Who was the little girl?" asked Evelyn as she rejoined the group.

"Wanda," replied Professor X, "Magneto's daughter. She has a twin brother, Pietro. I didn't pick him out of the crowd but he can be somewhat difficult to pin down. I suspect they were the young mutants your father was investigating."

"She's so young!"

"Yes," Professor X sounded wistful, "Yes she is."

"What on earth is a girl so young doing out here? It's really dangerous!"

Professor X had the same wistful look on his face when he turned to respond. "The exact same thing you are doing here."

Evelyn felt herself slump down onto the cold floor of the plane as it took off. Her phone buzzed and she answered. "Dad?"

"Hey, Evey," he said. He sounded beyond tired. "Are you on the plane?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Good. I have to debrief with the X-men so I will see you back at the mansion in about an hour," he sighed, "It is good to hear you are okay."

"Same to you, Papa," she bit her lip a little and said her goodbyes. She wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and let the day be over. It would have to wait because there was still the debrief to take care of. A debrief, during which she nodded off twice.

She caught her head as it drooped forward, jerking back to an upright position and blinking around the table to make sure nobody saw her. Nobody seemed to notice, or if they did they didn't care. Speaking honestly, everyone around the table appeared at different stages of collapse. Rogue and Remy leaned against each other for support. Jean and Scott were both leaned back in their chairs staring glazed-eyed (or Evelyn assumed Scott's eyes were glazed, she couldn't tell for certain) at the front of the room. Kitty looked about to fall off her chair. Bobby's head rested against the wood conference table and a rime of crystalline frost encrusted the surface around his fingers.

"It was close," said Storm, "But the justices ruled five to four that mutant solitary confinement is cruel and unusual punishment and should only be used for extreme cases. At least they can't banish people to solitude simply because they are mutants."

"And Magneto?" Asked Jean.

"In custody at the moment. Charges are pending. The problem is really finding a facility he can't break out of," noted Storm, "and if we are being honest, I think he is well aware that man made walls will do a pitiful job of holding him back."

The mission was classified as a success, despite the fact that Magneto's escape from custody was all but assured. The injuries to the protesters were minimal. The police and the accompanying SHIELD agents were down a few vehicles but managed to perform their job admirably. The entire world had seen the X-men fighting on live TV, standing between innocent people and danger. So, for what it was worth, they were the heroes of the day. Although it was very surreal for Evelyn to see her own picture on TV surrounded by shades of blue.

Phil hurried to his daughter when the meeting drew to a close. They didn't say anything. They didn't have to. He wrapped his arms around her and let her sleepily rest against his jacket. In a blink of an eye, all was right in the world. He held her tightly, forgetting all the fears of the day.

"I was worried," he whispered rubbing her back.

"Me too," she admitted, "I was… really, really scared. I was all alone. It was..."

"It's okay," Phil kissed her forehead, "It's over now. You were great. You did good. I'm… I'm glad you're safe."

"Papa…"

He had to leave eventually, taking with him a sadder but wiser Clint. He pretended like it didn't bother him but the loss of his bow was tough to get over. He held the broken, useless pieces to his chest, like he was protecting a child. There was even a bit of moisture around his eyes.

"I'll… I'll just have to rebuild it," he sniffled. "Somehow."

"Oh, Clint," Evelyn hugged him and he pretended like he wasn't crying into her shoulder. The fragment of the bow jabbed her in the chest but she ignored the spark of pain and let him continue to let out his angry emotions until the troop transport was loaded and he absolutely had to leave. Phil promised they would visit soon. After all, Clint would have to show off his newly repaired bow.


	18. Pt 2 Ch 6: Un-X-Pected

Phil and Anita spent months investigating Evelyn's origins. There were many phone conversations between New York and Portland, sometimes stretching into the evenings. Over cups of coffee (and green tea on Anita's end), they investigated any and all possible leads. Most of the trails they pursued resulted in dead ends. There was actually little headway.

"I had a lead working with a midwife while following another lead," Phil relayed eagerly one morning a few days after the Magneto incident. "On June 18, 1984 there as a girl born in Rio Rancho: Isabella Capra. Her parents had her tested in vitro for the M-gene and it was a positive hit. But there hasn't been any information on that name anywhere in the area."

He could almost hear palpable interest from Anita across the phone line, "You think...?"

"Maybe. It's close. I'm going to see if I find anything else about Miss Capra or her parents," said Phil, "I don't know if they have any sort of record with us, but we should look."

"You said Rio Rancho?"

"Uh," he shuffled through paperwork, "Yeah, Rio Rancho."

"I have a friend from college who is working as a defense attorney down there. We keep in touch. If you need anyone to follow up, I'm sure Misty could help."

"I'll let you know," replied Phil. He decided to change gears for a moment, "So how's your brother?"

"Well," she replied, a smile in her voice, "He and Sunny, his wife, are driving down from Seattle for a weekend trip. We're going to the coast. Sunny wants to see the sea lion caves. Martin wants to spend some time at the beach."

"In November?"

"Oh the beach is beautiful in fall," explained Anita, "Less crowded for one. Also, Martin doesn't have to deal with his sensitive skin in the summer heat."

"Got it. Well, it sounds like you are going to have a good time."

"It's going to be good to see them,"

The chatted for a bit on the phone, smiling and laughing all the while. Phil talked about going up to visit Evelyn later for a meeting with Xavier. He said there was news but didn't give any indication about what it might be. It wasn't that he was worried but there was a lingering feeling in the back of his mind that he might not have a good weekend.

Meanwhile, at school, the mansion seemed uncomfortably quiet following the confrontation with Magneto. A good night's sleep was hard-won. Kitty tossed and turned on the upper bunk all night long so it didn't surprise Evelyn when she was slow to rouse in the morning. It seemed as though everyone shared Kitty's restlessness because breakfast was subdued. Everyone dragged themselves along as though the full weight of the conflict rested on their backs.

It was to the point that Evelyn almost didn't realize Kitty was missing from morning classes. Curiously, she hurried back to the room they shared. Much to her relief, Kitty was still in bed but the covers were pulled up over her head. When Evelyn shut the door, her roommate made a noise like a grouchy bear. When she turned on the lights, the noise turned into a manic yowling.

"You okay?"

"Migraine," explained Kitty, muffled by the pillow, "It's a side effect of the mutation. I took a pill. I'll be fine."

Evelyn nodded, flipping off the lights, "Are you sure?"

"Yeeeeeeah," she groaned, "Little bit more sleep."

Evelyn slid out the door and to go to lunch. She closed the door behind her so the room was dark. Kitty didn't acknowledge her presence when she came back. Evelyn brought her a tuna sandwich but soon realized her friend was asleep. Instead, walked to the communal kitchen to keep it in the fridge.

"I haven't seen Kitty," noted Piotr when she walked into the kitchen. He spoke up even before greeting her in any way. "Is she okay?"

"She said she had a headache," explained Evelyn, "I think she's sleeping now."

He nodded and walked to the cabinet to retrieve a jar of peanut butter. He seemed anxious, but less than before. He was tall, the tallest of the group at six foot three, and he easily gained an inch once his skin turned into metal. He said he was originally from Russia but had only the faintest hint of an accent. Evelyn had a few classes with him but mostly they associated because Kitty had a crush on him, a crush which Evelyn suspected might be reciprocated.

"I was just checking. She said she wasn't feeling well last night," clarified Piotr, "She said her mutation causes her some pain."

"Is there anything to be done?" Evelyn asked, putting the sandwich in the fridge.

"Doctor McCoy is working on it. I know he found a medication to help but other than that it is just pills and bedrest."

"I wish I could help," she lamented.

"Maybe Doctor McCoy has something you could do," suggested Piotr, "I mean, you're his favorite student."

"Well," Evelyn fretted modestly, "I just enjoy science. I like to learn."

"You're in biochemistry. That's impressive," he noted, "If you want to help, chat with Doctor McCoy."

"Yeah," she pondered, "Maybe I will."

She made her way down the labs and found Hank standing at the mess of glass pipes and chemical beakers. It was hard to tell exactly what he was working on. To be honest, it could be one of any number of things, including setting up for class the next day.

"Ah, Evelyn," smiled McCoy as she walked in, "How can I assist you?"

"Well, I had a question about Kitty. I know she has… problems because of her mutation. I'd like to help. Piotr told me you are working on something."

"Well, something," shrugged McCoy, "It's basically an extra-strength Excedrin. That seems to work for her. As far as actually treating the source of the headaches, I haven't made much progress."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Well, what I really need to do is get Kitty in for a brain scan since I have a sense of what is causing the headaches. I don't have access to an MRI right now or admitting privileges at a facility that does have one," he explained, "For now, you can help me assess her symptoms and maybe we can find solutions that way."

It was the best solution for the time being. Although the thoughts still weighed heavily on her mind, Evelyn settled in for the evening with friends. They gathered around the television for video games. Bobby and Warren were glued to controllers. Warren was mostly placid, save for the twitch of his wings brushing against the heavy fabric of the couch. Bobby was cursing up a storm and muttering under his breath all the while. Meanwhile, Kitty, who felt a little better after sleeping most of the day, sat on the thick hand-braided rug in front of the television and glued her new nails over the stubs of her damaged ones. Stubs of cracked nail were clipped and filed until even and then overlaid with a beautiful candy apple red veneer.

The boys played video games while the sticky, industrial aroma of nail glue permeated the air. Honestly, though, they were grateful Kitty was too preoccupied with the task at hand to jump in. She was somewhat infamous for her video game prowess. Evelyn was not quite as adept as her fellow students. She avoided the controller unless it was to give Bobby an easy win and boost his faltering ego. Kitty, in contrast, was the picture of focus, fingers dancing across the buttons with ease. Bobby and Warren both insisted it had to be some side effect of her mutation every time she left them in a cursing mess. Kitty never flat out denied the claim. She always had a small smile on her face as she waved them away.

Someone recently got their hands on a new Playstation. It was probably Warren or Kitty as they were both tech junkies. It sat on the media center next to the Nintendo 64 and a jumble of games. The game library consisted of several people's collections put into one communal pile: Final Fantasy, Turok, Castlevania, Starfox, Goldeneye and other assorted titles lay in a stack.

"How is writing class going?" asked Evelyn looking up at Bobby as he slouched over the arm of the couch. The Playstation controller lay abandoned on the throw pillow. He had his ass thoroughly handed to him in Mortal Kombat by Warren who was now cheerfully skipping off to the kitchen for more snacks. His white, feathery wings fluttered as he walked and he occasionally took off the ground a few inches and glided along.

"Hard," he griped, "We have a writing project coming up about what we want to do when we grow up and our occupation. I'm struggling."

"Really?" She tried to keep her fingers still while Kitty applied glue and pressed the false nails against hers but she was sort of ticklish and it was difficult. "It seems fairly straightforward."

"Yeah, but, there are only so many occupations that a mutant can have. Technically people aren't supposed to discriminate but, let's be honest, it still happens. I guess I have it better because my mutation isn't obvious. But, you know, it isn't easy either."

"So what are you writing on?"

"I don't know," he grumbled.

"Well, when's it due?"

"Monday."

"Monday!" Evelyn exclaimed, "But it's Friday now!"

"I have time."

"You have _some_ time," clarified Evelyn, "You have _barely_ enough time."

"Stop moving!" Insisted Kitty, "I can't get the nails to stick on straight if you keep wiggling. I don't want to get the glue on your sweats."

There was a clamor from somewhere upstairs. A loud voice rang from one of the upper floors. Out of nowhere came a whiff of sulfur and the characteristic popping noise of Kurt teleporting into the room. He glanced around and smiled.

"Warren seems to be winning again," he noted, gesturing to the screen.

"Yeah, pissing me off," grouched Bobby, "Do you want a turn?"

Kurt wiggled his bulky fingers so everyone could see. "I am quite literally all thumbs. But I appreciate the thought. I just needed a break from the essay. The walls were closing in around me."

"Ugh!" Groaned Bobby, burying his face in the throw pillow, "Stop talking about the essay! I don't want to think about it!"

"What are you doing yours on?" Asked Evelyn.

"Seminary."

"Really?"

"I want to help mutants find strength and dignity in their identity," explained Kurt, "I think the best way is through the spiritual, especially since it is all some people have. Seminary and counseling classes are the first steps. Lots of people can benefit."

Warren returned from the kitchen with a large bag of Cheetos and a large bottle of Diet Coke. Bobby sighed and groaned. "You have a good idea. I have no idea. You won this round."

"There's no winning," said Kurt, sitting cross-legged in front of the TV so he could have easy access to the Cheeto bag. "It's schoolwork, not a race."

Bobby opened his mouth to respond but the clamoring and clattering from the upper floors grew louder. It took a moment but it became obvious the voices were Scott and Jean bickering.

"Ugh, stop," hissed Jean as they descended the stairs, swinging open the door to the basement labs, "I don't want to talk about it right now."

"You know, for a psychic, you really have issues talking about problems," insisted Scott, jamming his foot in the door so Jean couldn't slam the door in his face. She slammed it anyway and he made a yelping noise when it crushed against his foot.

"There's nothing to talk about. Now. Back. Off," she punctuated each word by yanking on the door handle until it slammed shut and her feet went racing off down the stairs into the lab. Scott stood at the door for a second before shaking his head and walking off. His cheeks were bright red with embarrassment or perhaps frustration.

"What's the problem?" whispered Evelyn.

"They're hot and cold," Warren returned in hushed tones, "Been like this for as long as I knew them. I do think they care a lot for each other even if it is not really obvious."

"Well," interjected Kitty, "You're mean to people who you think will love you anyway. Because you know they'll forgive you."

"I know but that doesn't mean it's a good thing.," sighed Warren, "I'm concerned for them. Jean's a friend. Scott too for that matter. I don't like seeing them ripping each other apart over their relationship."

"What were they fighting about?" asked Kitty, sipping her Diet Coke.

"Does it matter?" interjected Bobby, "Can we get back to the game?"

"You in a hurry to lose?" Asked Warren with a smile.

"Shut up, bird boy, and put your money where your mouth is," he teased playfully.

Monday morning arrived far too early. Evelyn slogged out of bed for class. She wandered through class in a blur. Morning classes folded together like lumps of clay, partially dry, and long devoid of usefulness. Her funk continued into the early afternoon when a familiar voice cut through the back of her head like the beam of a lighthouse through the mire of pea soup fog.

 _"Evelyn, please come to my office at your earliest convenience."_

 _"But I have class."_

 _"I understand. I will personally excuse you. Your presence is needed."_

The fact that Xavier was being evasive about what the meeting was about was concerning but not alarming. Not yet. The red flags didn't start waving until she saw Doctor McCoy leaning up against the edge of his desk with a bulky manilla envelope and handfuls of paper clutched in both paws. Her mind went into panic mode when she realized that her father was sitting in one of the chairs in front of the professor's desk.

"What is going on?"

Xavier's blue eyes were calm and concerned as he gestured to the chair next to her father, "Evelyn, please take a seat."

Her feet robotically led her over to the chair and she plopped down. It was an old chair, with ornate carving and velveteen seat but it lacked plush or any proper back support. So she found herself forced to sit ramrod straight or risk being contorted by the chair. Her eyes stole a glance over to her father but he seemed as lost as she was. Nevertheless, he spared a smile toward her. It didn't stop the butterflies in her stomach from fluttering in overtime but knowing he was there provided an ally, a lifeline.

Professor X sighed and folded his hands in front of his face before he spoke. "There is simply no easy way to say this. We have ran every possible test we could find on the samples of Miss Evelyn. She is not a mutant."

The five simple words tumbled down like the first pebbles bouncing downhill to announce a landslide. The silence surrounding the noise felt palpable, as though all the air in the room was replaced with cotton padding. Her lungs stopped working, clenching in shock. Evelyn became intensely aware of her heartbeat.

"Are you sure?" Phil asked quietly, his mouth slightly ajar in surprise.

"There is no doubt," McCoy fished a paper out of the stack, "I ran tests three times because I thought for sure I was missing something. But, her genes are totally normal in every way. She isn't even a carrier for the gene."

The conversation carried on without Evelyn's participation. Her vision narrowed to the small square in front of her. She could feel a shake in her hands and tried to hold back the flood of energy in her body. Tears threatened to stab at her eyes.

"Evelyn?" asked her father, reaching across to touch her arm. She felt warm, almost feverish. "Do you need a moment?"

She let out a choked sob in response. Phil turned his chair so it screeched on the wooden floors. He didn't care if it ruined the hardwood because right now his daughter needed him. She had a bluish haze around her person as she let out small, wet sobs.

"Honey," Phil took her hands in his and held on. "It's okay. We're gonna figure this out. I'm not upset. Nobody is upset."

"I'm gonna," she held in a sob. Her nose was starting to run now and she felt embarrassed by the ugliness of her crying. "I'm gonna have to leave, aren't I?"

"Oh goodness, no!" Insisted Professor X, "We aren't going to kick you out. You can stay for as long as you need to stay. Just because you aren't a mutant doesn't mean we are banishing you and leaving you to your own devices."

"Really?" Evelyn sniffed, already mentally preparing to pack her bags. The blue haze was making Phil's hands feel uncomfortably hot and he was mildly concerned for the highly flammable chair. "So I don't have to leave?"

"We never turn anyone away," smiled Xavier, "Especially someone who needs answers. All of us have gone through your search."

"Really?" She hated how her vocabulary shrunk to nothingness as she became more emotional.

"How do you think we learned about mutations in the first place? It was only by asking questions and testing for results. Had there not been people willing to pursue answers, we would still be questioning why we are the way we are. The very nature of mutations would be out of our grasp if not for exploration. There would be many people in deep despair over the fact that they were different from their peers and no explanation for why. More than answers, we're here to be a community for people who need one desperately. We will always be here for you."

Evelyn tried to summon a smile but only managed the mirage of mirth, a painfully shallow replication of reality. It felt forced and contrived even to her, and she felt for certain it was obvious to the adults in the room.

"We will figure this out," promised Phil. He squeezed her hand and, to his relief, it seemed to cool a bit in his hands. Or perhaps he was becoming acclimated to the heat. She nodded, but felt somewhat vacant, like part of her brain decided to check out until she was in a position to fully digest what just happened.

"I just don't quite understand," muttered Phil as he glanced over the papers McCoy handed to him. It was in scientific gobbledygook so it wasn't like he understood it but maybe an answer would magically present itself. "If she isn't a mutant than how do you explain all the remarkable things she can do?"

"Even though she doesn't have the genes," confirmed Beast, "There are some… peculiarities. Her bone and muscle growth is quite advanced, as you know. Previously I assumed this was due to mutant growth hormone. However, it seems her body is producing something different. The chemical structure and bonding patterns are similar to MGH, so it might be confused in standard lab tests. But the molecule is not actually the same. Or, I should say, molecules. I managed to isolate two components of her hormone structure. One is standard human growth hormone, which made by all humans to some extent or another. But the other chemical is… something different. It enhances the effects of HGH while balancing the side effects."

"Interesting…" Xavier said looking up from the report at Beast.

"I'm coming up with some particulars on the electron scanner that I can't quite explain," said Beast, "Two varieties of subatomic particles. The first acts as a pathway for the energy through her body. There is another variety that will catch and hold the energy in a pocket."

Evelyn shifted her feet a bit, "So, that explains everything."

'Far from it," corrected Beast, taking off his glasses, "We have no idea how these particulars got into your body, why they act they way they do, how you are able to actively control them, or even what they are. We only know the bare minimum of information."

He continued, "I'm also not any sort of expert in subatomic particles. My area of expertise ends at the molecular level. So, I've been studying the literature in an attempt to catch up. I'll spare you the details since a good deal of it is dry and dense as lead. But I did find one interesting similarity."

Phil leaned forward in his chair. He was not, by any stretch of the imagination, adept at science. Evelyn's schooling long surpassed his knowledge and he lost the ability to keep up with her ages ago. But he did try to get a handle on it if only to help check over her homework.

McCoy explained, "The pattern of particles appears similar to the particles Reed Richards wrote about back in the 60's regarding galactic cosmic radiation. However, his tests had to do with organic matter that was directly exposed to the radiation. To our knowledge, Miss Coulson has had no such exposure."

"To our knowledge," Phil clarified.

"Precisely," noted McCoy, "she _is_ adopted. There _may_ have been some exposure in her past, either intentional or accidental."

"What would cause that?" Inquired Phil, feeling like they were finally mining toward something promising.

"Good question. I don't know for sure," McCoy cauterized the conversation before it could progress, "Galactic cosmic rays are relatively new to science. There are precious few samples and even fewer ways to find it in nature. Richards pretty much wrote the book on the subject and a handful of theoretical physicists have been playing with it. The lack of physical samples puts a damper on things. It is also, only a working theory about what happened to Evelyn. It requires more research to determine if the rays could have even caused this."

"Should we get Richards involved to verify?" inquired Professor X.

"If he can spare the time. I know his day job is keeping him busy. Not to mention his superhero side business. Latveria has been nervous about Yugoslavia and Milošević and their doom and gloom leader has been taking out his frustration on anyone he feels like." McCoy sighed, wistful, "I would have liked to hear from Doctor Banner. Radiation was his specialty and in many ways, it enhanced what Richards did, especially the anti-electron theories. However… nobody in the scientific community has heard from him for some time now."

"Interesting," noted Xavier with his typical knowing look around his eyes as he folded the documents back into the file, "I say go through with it. I know this isn't, strictly speaking, our arena. However, if there are other possibilities for special abilities to develop, we should know about them. All the more to help out students."

"Where are we going from here?" Asked Phil, still holding his daughter's hand as she sat numbly in the chair, like a lost doll.

Beast smiled, tucking his glasses into a pocket, "We're going to do some experimentation upon these samples. I'll try to better isolate what they are, call for a few second opinions. We will look at her biological samples and try to find more clues."

Evelyn lifted her head for a second, "Can I help with your experiments?"

He blinked for a moment and then smiled, "Of course. It is your life we are talking about. If anyone has the right to know firsthand, it is you."

"Today," Interjected Xavier, "I think you deserve a break from class. If your father is willing, he can take you for the day."

"Thank you," said Phil, sensing that Evelyn needed air, "I'll have her back for dinner."

"Take all the time you need," instructed Professor X. He handed the envelope over to Phil, "if she needs out of class tomorrow as well, just let me know. This isn't easy."

Phil was grateful for the time. Evelyn clung to him as she stood and they hurried out the front doors and into the crisp fall day. The sky was gray but the clouds were too high for rain. A light fog settled on the fields around the grounds and the bare trees poked spindly black limbs through the lingering gray. Winter threatened to invade as the last brown leaves fell from the trees and the wind swooped in with the full force of the chilly north.

"Are you going to be okay?" He asked after they walked for a minute or two in the dewy fields.

She exhaled and a puff of icy condensation curled from her lips. Her entire body seemed to be slightly mired in mist as pale blue heat raced along her hands. "I don't know."

"Talk to me," requested Phil, "I want to help."

"I just... I've gotten used to the idea that I'm a mutant. I've made friends. I've made friends I can just... be myself around. I don't have to hide that I am different. Everyone is different. But, now... now..." she coughed out a sob and continued, "I'm not one of them. I'm different again. I don't even know why or how I am different so it's like none of the past two years has mattered... and..."

She was started to let off a faint steam as the air around her heated up. Phil turned to look her in the eyes. Her cheeks were pink with cold and emotion. Eyes were tinged with red and leaking a few tears. He ran a hand through her auburn hair.

"I think it is been anything but a waste of time," he insisted, "look at how much you have grown and all that you can do now. And you still have friends. You still have Kitty and Clint and they'll accept you no matter what you are."

"You don't know that," she insisted, shaking her head to hide her tears.

Phil tried to smile and wipe her tears away, "Friendship is about loving someone for who they are and not what they have. I know that's the way you feel about your friends. I'm confident that's how they feel about you."

Evelyn didn't respond, but she didn't deny his words either. She sobbed once and then the onslaught of tears she had been holding back flooded out. Phil embraced her in the empty field as the last autumn leaves drifted by on the snow tipped breeze. She cried, muffling her tears in his jacket. He ran his hands through her hair, trying to find the words to soothe her confused mind. There was nothing to be said, only tears to be shed.

As the mist choked sun began to drift toward the western sky, Phil guided her back toward the mansion. She had puffy eyes, marred with exhaustion. Phil did his best to dab away her tears with a few sheets of Kleenex but it was almost too little too late.

"We need to go and get Clint," explained Phil, "he said he was doing some training with a few of the students. I'm wondering if 'training' is actually code for 'goofing off.'"

Normally she would have a joke at Clint's expense but this time, she came up empty. There wasn't a single funny thing she could think to say as they walked down toward the training halls.

They pushed upon the first one to find it completely iced over. Stalactites of blue - tinged ice hung like graceful chandeliers around them. The floor was like a skating rink, with a network of frost adorning the surface like lace. The air was dry, save for a few flurries wafting through on air currents. Clint stood in the middle, bow trained upward on some target. He fired an arrow and it popped upon impact. A flash of white light released a puff of white snow drifting from the ceiling. Bobby's laugh echoed around the ice cavern.

"Great shot, dude! That was freaking sweet!"

Clint grinned, "Well now that I know a dude who can literally turn anything to ice, I gotta have some way to fight that. You know, in case there's an evil twin out there somewhere or something like that."

"Or, you know, yeti."

The boys chuckled and Phil poked his head in between the columns of ice. Bobby was perched up high with a layer of snow littering the ground under him. Clint was on ground level with a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder.

"Looks like you boys are having fun," noted Phil, "I feel like I've walked into the Fortress of Solitude."

"Just testing a few new arrows," smiled Clint, "Iceman's been lendin' a hand."

Bobby jumped down, "Dude, we gotta do this again when you make that ice arrow you promised. I wanna see that thing."

"Give me a few weeks and I'll see what I can come up with," promised Clint. The two high fived and Bobby excused himself. "So, do we have to head out right away?"

"Actually, I was going to take Evelyn out for dinner and I was going to take you along, unless you made other plans."

"I got nothin'," he turned to Evelyn for the first time since she walked in. His eyes flicked to Phil and then back to Evelyn, concern creeping in the edges of his expression. "Evey...?"

"It's... it's nothing," she insisted, turning from him to hide her swollen eyes.

"We'll talk over dinner," Phil insisted, coming to her rescue.

They went into town and picked out a small Italian place across from the coffee shop. Evelyn had been eyeing it for some time and it specialized in exactly the sort of comfort food Evelyn needed. The air smelled like fresh basil, fresh baked bread, and hot peppers. They served pasta in massive piles, smothered in rich sauce. The breadsticks were doused in garlic butter and wrapped in warm linen. Monday night also meant the place was fairly empty. Evelyn appreciated the privacy. For a little while, she could ignore the elephant in the room and be herself.

"Noticed you have a new bow," she commented between forkfuls of angel hair pasta.

"It's a combat bow," he explained, "lighter weight, so easier to maneuver. The frame is fiberglass and carbon. The lab at SHIELD came up with a sort of polymer thing for the string. So there's no metal in there anymore."

"So, no more problems if you encounter certain people with a certain sort of affinity toward metal.

"Yeah. That scared the crap outta me. I don't wanna have to deal with that again. So I'm being smart about this. There are a lotta people with a lotta special abilities. I gotta be able to adapt to that," he paused to attack a meatball on his plate and shove it into his mouth. He continued to speak around his food, "so I actually need your help with that."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," instructed Phil, sounding every bit like he and Clint had this exchange before.

Clint almost succeeded in holding back an eye roll but dutifully chewed and swallowed his food before continuing. "I need you to try to break it."

"Clint! I can't do that! You've spent so much time working on it!"

"Well, yeah, that's the point. I gotta find the weaknesses if I'm gonna fix them. I didn't even think about the metal parts when we went up against Magneto. What else could I be missing?"

"So you want me to try to break it, so you know how to make a bow that won't break?"

"Exactly."

"Okay," Evelyn sighed, "You asked for it."

"Do your worst!" he insisted.

The rest of dinner was a typical line of small talk mostly between Phil and Clint. Evelyn let herself drop out of conversation and focus on her food. She knew she should be enjoying this but the food didn't taste as good as it should, not when a lead weight of anxiety pressed against her shoulders.

Clint stared at her. "Are you going to talk about it? This thing that's obviously got you upset? Or is it a... you know, a girl thing and I don't wanna know?"

Phil's eyes flicked over Evelyn and he briefly wondered if Evelyn was actually going to tell him. Eventually she set her napkin on the table and took a deep breath.

"Got the results back on my genetic testing," she prefaced. There was a long, pregnant pause before she continued. "I'm... not actually a mutant."

Clint was silent for a second, brows knitted together as he processed this information. The wheels in his head were slow to turn but the words clicked into place.

"But... you have, like, super powers," he stopped for a moment as the words sank in. "How...?"

"We don't know," Interjected Phil, "her professors haven't seen anything like this."

The table was quiet for a long moment. Around them the world continued. Waiters hurried from table to table with refills on bread sticks and drinks. People carried on with conversation, their laughter drifting up to the ceiling to dissipate like smoke. Plates and silverware clacked together. Life went on.

"So now what? Are you coming home?" His voice betrayed his eagerness.

"Not yet," admitted Evelyn, "I want to stay for class. And to see if maybe we can figure this out, whatever is..."

 _"Wrong with me_ " were the words on the tip of her tongue but she couldn't quite find the breath to vocalize them. She swallowed some water to clear her throat and continued.

"I mean, if people still want me to stay. I'm not really... I'm not..." she stammered, feeling on the verge of crying again. "I'm not one of them."

"You really think they will reject you just because you're not a mutant?" Asked Clint.

"I'm don't know," she wrung her napkin between her hands.

"Well," he mused, "if they do, they aren't any sort of friends you should spend time with."

She heard this advice before and prepared for a reiteration of what her father said earlier.

"And, you know, isn't part of Xavier's thing supporting each other through tough times?" He continued, "and you know, mutants and humans working together instead of fighting?"

"Yeah..."

"So, you know, you're kind of the thing they've been fighting for. Peace. Harmony. And all that hippie stuff."

Phil laughed. Evelyn managed to force out a chuckle but it sort of half caught in her throat. Clint did make her feel a little better about the situation but she couldn't call herself relieved. She bid them goodbye and Clint arranged a time to meet so she could try to mess up his bow. She felt a looming dread rest on her shoulder as she climbed the stairs to her dorm.

The light was on, so Kitty was still awake and probably doing schoolwork. She pushed the door open to find her and Kurt on the rug with textbooks in hand.

"Kurt, you are wrong on question five. The answer is 42 because you have to follow the order of operations."

"But," he interjected, "order of operations says you do the parentheses first. So if you do that, the answer is 103. So, yours is actually incorrect."

Kitty faltered, "But... 42 is the answer to life, the universe, and everything."

"Evelyn!" Kurt exclaimed as she walked into the room, "We missed you at dinner!"

"Where've you been?" Asked Kitty, abandoning the math book.

For a second, Evelyn considered not telling them. Her heart pounded in her chest. Eyes burned but she couldn't summon any more tears. She had already cried herself dry today. But then, she sighed. If she didn't tell them now, they would find out later. It was better, long term, to be upfront. But her stomach twisted into a sailor's knot at the thought.

"I have something to tell you," she took a seat on the rug with them, "but I... I need you to not say anything until I'm done. I need to... I need to get it all out at once."

Kitty and Kurt exchanged a glance between them. Their faces were painted with shades of concern. Looking at them made her stomach twist up worse so she looked down and braced for impact.

"Hank finished my genetic testing and, uh," she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The words didn't feel real as she spoke them. It was like she was hearing another person speak. Her voice was not her own. "I'm not a mutant."

The pair were silent for a second. Evelyn kept her eyes squeezed shut, as though being unable to see could blind her to their reactions.

"Are you sure?" Asked Kurt. "It just seems odd since, well, since you have powers like a mutant."

"Hank tested t-three times," she stammered, "I'm not... guys, I'm super scared. I don't know... I don't know what I am."

She was shocked to feel arms around her shoulders and breath by her ear. She opened her eyes and Kitty had her arms over her shoulders. Evelyn let out a choked sob, her fear starting to crack away.

"It's gonna be okay," assured Kitty. Her words lacked depth. There was no way to know for sure that anything would be okay. She was stuck back in limbo, not knowing really who or what she was.

But the words helped.

"Hank and Professor X will figure it out," Kitty said confidently. "Whatever it is."

Kurt nodded in agreement. "You aren't leaving, are you?"

Evelyn felt her shoulders relax, the stress lessening. "Not right now. Not until we maybe find more answers."

"Good," said Kitty, "I'd hate to lose my favorite roommate."

The conversation made Evelyn feel more relaxed but not fully at ease. There was a whole, huge school beyond the walls of her dorm room. She wasn't confident they would be as kind as Kitty.

Her nervousness failed to abate even as she fell into bed. Kitty drifted off quickly, her light snorting breathing becoming a distraction and making the journey to sleep all the more perilous.

Evelyn tiptoed from bed to the dresser. She retrieved her Captain America doll from her childhood. He went with her when she left home, mostly so she would have something to remember her father by. It had been ages since she needed the doll to get to sleep. Tonight, she retrieved him from his spot between the star spangled Beanie Baby which was a birthday gift from Kitty and a photo of her and Clint her father sent her.

The little doll showed signs of being well loved. Evelyn needed a bit of that love. She needed the comfort of a familiar friend. Even though she cradled Cap between her arms and finally managed to drift off to sleep, her dreams were dark.

Hands grabbed for her as she tried to run down darkened corridors and winding paths. She could feel the darkness on her heels, snapping like a pack of wolves on the hunt. She knew she couldn't run forever. This nightmare had one inevitable end. A flash of light blinded her and her limbs were paralyzed by a creeping sensation like serpents coiling around her arms and legs.

She cried out, yearning for her father, Kitty, Clint, Captain America, anyone to come and help her escape before the inevitable. Her feet lifted from the ground and she flailed, wailing like a baby. As she was held aloft, she saw the figure of her nightmares.

The Gold Man stood with his arms aloft. The place where his face should be was marred with smoky shadow. The rest of him was shimmering like molten metal.

She screamed as he dropped his arms, throwing her downward, toward the yawning blackness. Inky tendrils coiled around her limbs, threatening to drown her in an eternal night. A flash of blue split across her eyes like lightning and her foot jerked and yanked her back into reality.

She was clutching Cap in her arms as hazy gray daylight trickled into the room. Kitty stood in the doorway in her bathrobe, a wet towel covering her head and a toothbrush hanging from her mouth.

"Are you okay?"

The short answer was no. She did not feel okay. She was half a galaxy away from okay. But class had to continue regardless.

By lunch, everyone pretty much knew Evelyn's situation. She suspected Xavier might have let her instructors know and it leaked from there but she couldn't be sure.

She pretended not to see people double-take when they saw her. Apprehension pooled around her through the day. Classes went uneventfully but with an air of hesitation. Lots of people asked how she was feeling.

How did she feel?

Well...

Scared as hell was a good starting place. Followed by: unsure of her future, worried about the truth, concerned if she would ever have an answer. All of those crossed her mind. But there was no easy way to say it in a pithy turn of words. So she settled on...

"I'm fine."

Most of the day was just fine until she got to her favorite part of the day: science class with Doctor McCoy. His classes were hands-on, full of labs, and with plenty of opportunities to design and conduct their own experiments. Evelyn found herself gravitating toward the labs during study periods, a stack of workbooks in hand to work on personal projects. It was almost enough to forget all the problems of the day and just bury herself in a task. But all good things had to come to an end and she was pushed back into her day way too early for her tastes.

Simulations class loomed like a storm front. Fortunately, Remy was taking over Simulations while Scott and Logan were working on a project for Professor X. Whatever it was they were doing, it took several days so Remy already taught a number of classes and it looked like he was to remain in charge for the foreseeable future.

Remy was a really good teacher, even if his shimmering magenta eyes were slightly unsettling. He was a fan of the practical and styled his lesson plans toward real life applications. His lighthearted attitude often resulted in the class being interrupted in favor of playing games.

They started with large Nerf balls. It dissolved into an intensive round of dodgeball. They got back on track the next day and worked their way down to smaller projectiles, the size of softballs. Now they were using small projectiles like knives and, in Remy's case, playing cards. He demonstrated by sticking a foam practice dummy with a full fifty two card deck. By the time he was done, the dummy looked like an Alice in Wonderland porcupine.

"Target practice," instructed Remy with a smile, his Cajun accent rising and falling jauntily, "happens to be my specialty."

Evelyn took the time to learn how to direct orbs of energy in the direction she wanted to go. Remy gave her a car battery for extra juice.

"Relax, chère," he instructed Kitty as she practiced with a small throwing dagger, "You are holding tension in your shoulders. It's not doing you any favors."

Evelyn, meanwhile, was deep in concentration, trying to create orbs of energy. It was a labor-intensive process, one she was not sure she could replicate under stress. When she pushed the shimmering blue orbs forward, they moved sluggishly through the air. It wobbled up and down before fizzling out. She let out the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. Sweat rolled down the bridge of her nose.

"Chère?" She heard Remy come up behind her. "You're bleeding."

He pointed toward the floor where dollops of red ooze stained the concrete. Evelyn quirked her head. The brilliant red drops appeared more viscous than blood. She blinked and her hands came into focus. The red nails that Kitty worked so hard to affix to her hands so that she could have pretty nails had melted, dripping from her fingertips and down onto the floor.

"This is why we can't have nice things," Kitty said, shaking her head. She smiled, a laugh hiding behind her lips.

Evelyn found herself mirroring the smile even though it felt slightly foreign on her face. How long had it been since she really smiled? Before Magneto, at least.

Kitty started to giggle. Evelyn joined. It was like a dam broke in her chest and suddenly laughed flooded from her heart and racing outward. Kitty joined, hazelnut eyes twinkling with joy. The girls collapsed on the ground together, forgetting what was actually funny and allowing themselves to just laugh.

Remy looked around the rest of the class. "What did I miss?"

So the fake nails had to go. It was a frustrating process but Evelyn helped by melting the glue so Kitty could pry them off again and file the remaining residue off. She was back to stubs of nail.

"That's a disappointment," muttered Kitty as the last of the glue was chipped off. "I guess you are going to have to go in and get professional acrylic nails or something like that."

"Will it hold up?"

"No clue," admitted Kitty, "But we can find out next weekend."

"Deal," sighed Evelyn as she washed her hands. But then an announcement over the loudspeakers summoned all students to the meeting room.

"We're tracking a group of sentinels moving fast up from Bethesda at a north-western course," said Storm as the students filed into the briefing. The bright green image flickered up on the giant screen, "Our radar image isn't that great because they are too far off but we think there are three of them. There might be more."

Professor X squinted at the screen, "Their target?"

"Could be anywhere from Hershey to Halifax," said Storm with a shrug, "Velocity suggests they are some distance away from their target. With that in mind, they could be going anywhere from upstate New York to southern Maine."

"They might be targeting one of the mutant settlements in that area," suggested Beast, "I know of one located in the Green Mountains. There are certainly more."

"Any chance they could be heading up to Canada?"

"Not without breaking international treaties," said Storm, "Not that it has stopped them before but I think they aren't likely to do that given what happened last time."

Professor X turned in his chair and started making his way toward the door, "I will be in Cerebro to see if there are any settlements in their trajectory that might give us some idea. Let me know if they change course."

They loaded into the plane, buckling into the backseat. Evelyn was surprised at the smaller team: Storm, Hank, Kitty, Piotr, Kurt, and herself. Fortunately, Hank had an explanation.

"With the majority of our team on the Genosha mission, we're counting on the younger team to be able to hold down the fort," he instructed, "We are currently going to intercept a team of sentinels. Storm is going to try to drive them to ground level. But it also means turbulence for us. So, buckle up."

Almost on cue, the evening clouds moved in and surrounded the plane. Rain splattered against the windows, tapping out a lazy rhythm which crescendoed into a deluge. The plane shuddered at the wind shoved them back and forth and Storm tried to keep them even.

"Hank, they are still showing up on radar," informed Storm, "They've improved their stability systems from the Omaha incident. I have to ice them."

"Are we landing?"

"I don't have room. The forest canopy is too dense," she noted, "But if I don't stop them in the next... five minutes, they will land in the Green Mountain settlement."

Beast went to the copilot panel and started pressing buttons. "Evelyn, can you do me a favor?"

"Sure...?"

"I am re-routing power to you. We need you to put a shield around the plane so that we don't ice up," he started pressing buttons, "Can you do that?"

She nodded and focused, trying to make the blue haze materialize outside the windows. Strictly speaking, she had never done anything like this before but it seemed to be working. Beyond the shield, the thick blobs of raindrops crystallized into snow. A draft snuck through the plane and Evelyn could feel a distracting chill tickle the back of her neck.

"Incoming," warned Storm and something collided with the shield. Evelyn faltered but refocused. Whatever it was, it felt big. "Two more."

Another loud noise, like plucking a bass buy far more resonant. This time the whole plane shuttered. And then again, this time Evelyn felt herself going a bit weak at the knees.

"Can I get a bit more power?"

"Not without compromising something," informed Hank, "Ororo, we have to call off the weather attack or land. It's getting too dangerous up here."

She pondered both for a second and then started to bring the jet into a landing cycle. "I think there may be a clearing up ahead. It's short but..."

She didn't get a chance to finish her thought as the plane was snagged by the tail and the nose pitched downward, careening toward the ground.

Storm shot a look back toward the tail of the plane, eyes blazing white. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line. "Alright! So _that's_ how it's gonna go!"

Beast took control of the plane and turned the nose back up toward the horizon. The plane sunk downward, toward the dark spires of the forest.

"We have tail damage," reported Storm, "and the landing gear is not responding. We're in for a bumpy ride. Evelyn, can you cast a shield again?"

"I'll try," she sighed. The blue started to rematerialize outsize the plane. It was weak and patchy as she tried to draw whatever energy she could find. Kitty clung against Piotr, hanging off his shoulder.

"Fasten your seatbelts, we are beginning our descent," said Hank. "In case of cabin depressurization..."

"No time!" Insisted Storm as she took controls back over. The trees brushed against the bottom of the shield, knocking against the plane. A loud crack of old trees shook them in their seats.

Evelyn was jolted in her seat, smacking her head. The shield fell away as she saw a flurry of stars across her eyes. She shook her head and restarted the shield.

No sooner did the first sparks flutter from her fingers that the plane shook and a jolt of flame shot from the nose to wing.

"Change of plans," ordered Hank, "Kitty, grab Peter and bail out here. Evelyn, you're with Kurt. Ororo and I will bring this thing down."

"But I can shield it!" Said Evelyn as the flame fluttered.

There wasn't any time to argue as the plane hit the ground and skidded through the dirt. Evelyn was thrown backward and lost track of the rest of her friends. She gasped, a scream catching in her throat as she fell. Hands cradled her gently. There was a flash of heat and then cold settled around her.

She opened her eyes and saw steely clouds and floating puffs of snow. Little crystals clung to her lashes and melted down her blushing face.

"What happened?" She muttered.

Kurt exclaimed something in German and suddenly everyone was crowded around her. Beast was looking into her eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Fine. What happened?"

"The plane exploded," explained Kitty, "You fell right back into..."

She was teary eyed, her cheeks reddened and stained with tear tracks. Piotr held her around the shoulders as she shook, either with tears or emotion.

"You fell right back toward the fire. I thought for sure to were..."

"I'm fine," Evelyn assured, "I don't think I'm burned at all."

She looked up her arms and legs. Everything appeared intact. But part of her sleeve was almost completely burned off and the seam melted. The second version of her uniform might need to be fireproof.

"Is it a healing thing?" Asked Piotr.

"Could be," shrugged Evelyn. A headache from smacking her head started to creep into the back of her skull. "What about the sentinels?"

"We lost them," said Beast, "But I'm in communication with Xavier and he says they were forced to turn back from the ice. So, the day is saved."

"And Rogue is going to be bringing in a plane for us to ride back in," said Storm. She glanced up and the snow started to wind down, vanishing into a few fine flurries and then into nothingness.

Meanwhile, New York City was experiencing the first snowstorm of the season. Phil was grateful to be inside as a few snow flurries wandered from sky to cement. There was a message on his phone from Anita. He had been deliberately putting off returning her calls. One he told her the results of Evelyn's tests, their communication might become more sporadic. And, he had gotten used to their phone calls and getting to know about her life and telling her about his.

"Hey, Anita," he said when he returned her call. "What's up?"

"Well, I spoke with my lawyer friend in New Mexico," she said, "It's a bit of a bummer. Isabella Capra is alive and well and living in Arizona. Her parents divorced and she took her mother's maiden name afterwards. She's Isabella Lomax now. I'm sorry."

"I kinda have some bad news of my own," he whispered, "Evelyn has been tested and, ah, she's not a mutant."

"Really?" She said, pausing for a moment, "But she has... special abilities."

"Yeah."

"Do they have any idea what could cause that?"

"We really have no idea," he admitted, "Even Xavier is a bit confused."

"So, what can I do to help?"

"Really? You want to help? Even though she's not... not really your problem?"

"Well, if you don't want my help..."

"No, no, I would love the help," insisted Phil, "I just know you have work and things to do and I don't want you to feel like I'm wasting your time with something that isn't your problem."

"Well, we've been working together for a long time. I am really curious about Evelyn's condition. I've gotten attached," she explained. "So, let's make a plan. Let's find some possibilities and work from there. You have your work resources and I have mine. Let's combine and see what we can do."

Phil smiled but felt his heart flutter in his chest. "Yeah, I'd really like that."

"And, I like talking with you."

Phil smiled, "I'm like talking to you, too."

"You can call anytime, Phil. For whatever reason."

"Thanks," he smiled as the snow dusted the rooftops. "Let's get going."


	19. Pt2 Ch 7: Drinking & Driving

Clint spent a long time in the practice range. Phil was actually concerned with how much time he spent there rather than enjoying himself in his free time. As a result, Phil made it a point to take him out to lunch a few times a month.

"I _am_ enjoying myself," insisted Clint when confronted, "But I've been busy."

"With what?"

Clint put down his sub sandwich, "Been working on arrows, different arrows for different situations. Evelyn and the X-men are helping me test the durability and stuff."

"Come up with anything good?"

"Maybe. Need to do some combat testing. Some of them are kind of… goofy," he admitted with a shrug, "Like, I don't know if I will ever need an ice arrow but, eh, why not? Bobby thought it would be cool."

"Well, don't work yourself to death," instructed Phil, crumpling up his sandwich wrapper, "You don't want to experience burnout while you still have so much life left to live."

Clint wiped a small smear of mayonnaise off his lip. "Don't worry. I met a girl, Frieda. She's a bit older but she's nice, works in accounting."

"You asked her out?"

"Yeah, we got coffee. Talked a bit. I'd like to take her out to dinner next paycheck. I got my eye on a sweet pizza place around the corner."

"Good for you," approved Phil, "I hope it goes well for you."

"What about you?" He asked, stealing a sip of Dr Pepper.

"What about me... what?"

"Do you have a girl somewhere?"

"Not really, no," Phil said awkwardly.

"What about Agent Hill?"

"Absolutely not," insisted Phil, "She's a very good friend of mine but nothing else."

"Evelyn calls her 'auntie,'" he pointed out.

"She helped me raise her," explained Phil, "Her and Bobbi… Agent Morse, would babysit for me and help take care of some household errands. But there was no romance involved. We're friends."

"Alright, alright," Clint backtracked, "What about Anita, the lady you talk to all the time about Evelyn?"

"We don't talk _all the time_." Clint shot him a dubious look, so Phil backtracked. "We speak over the phone about once a week, sometimes more."

Clint grinned, how that Phil was being honest. "She seems nice. You ever considered that maybe…?"

"Sure I _considered_ it. But she lives in Oregon. Kind of hard to have a relationship when you live on opposite sides of the country," Phil explained, "It's possible, I guess, but it's tough. It hasn't been a priority, romance and stuff. Been busy with work and being a dad."

"So, not even a girlfriend or a possibility of a girlfriend?"

"What's got you so curious?" asked Phil, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Nothing!" Clint held his hands up defensively, "Just looking out for you. I want you to be happy."

"I've done fine in that department without you," smiled Phil knowingly.

"Yeah, sure," Clint returned with a knowing smile of his own, "How long has it been since your last girlfriend? Not like, a date, a real girlfriend."

"None of your business!"

"So, when there was a Czar on the throne?"

"I'm not that old!"

"Had man landed on the moon yet?" He laughed, continuing to joke at Phil's experience.

"Alright. Remember what they say about payback," Phil tossed the keys over to Clint as they left, "Can you drop me off back at the office and then take the car over to the apartment? I have to take a quick trip down to DC and I don't feel like paying for overnight parking."

Clint shifted back and forth but didn't make any motion back toward the door. "I don't think I can do that."

"Do you have a mission?"

"No, I don't have a license."

"You don't have your license?" asked Phil, "Don't you have to get your license for basic training?"

"It's not really that I can't drive. I can drive tractors and ATVs and stuff. I just never got my driver's license officially," he explained when it looked like Phil was lost. "When I was at the circus, I bummed rides off my brother. Barney drove everywhere we needed to go and I rode my bike everywhere else. So I never needed to drive. And we moved around so much, I never had a chance to settle and get proof of residency for any state. This is the first time in my memory that I lived someplace that didn't have wheels."

Phil paused, mouth open, "Alright. We're gonna fix that just as soon as I get back."

"Really?"

"What not?" said Phil, climbing into the front seat, "I'll get in touch with your CO and he will get the ball rolling for you."

"Would it be possible for you to teach me?" asked Clint as he buckled his seatbelt.

Phil looked at the young man in front of him. It was surprising that Clint would ask something like that of him. It wasn't a bad thing, just interesting. He considered Clint carefully. When they first met, he had a familiar cocky boyishness. Hard work and maturity replaced his irreverence with determination. His appearance was being slowly altered by repeated growth spurts so his chubby baby cheeks became a firm jaw line adorned by a line of dusty blond facial hair. His eyes became assertive, a look most agents didn't adopt until they spent a few years in the field. Despite the fact he was growing up fast, becoming a man, his emotions were still very much that of a kid.

"There are people who are much more skilled at motor vehicle training than I am. Have you asked any of them?"

Clint shuffled in his seat, "No, Sir."

Phil continued to study him. "Are you not getting along with your unit?"

Clint hesitated, then shook his head.

Phil sighed, "If you report to my office an hour before breakfast, I can teach you in one of our older vehicles."

Clint's eyes lit up, shock and happiness blossoming across his face. The young agent practically squealed in glee. When they returned, Phil called Clint's superior officer and chewed him out for not facilitating group dynamics. It wasn't until Phil threatened paperwork did the officer listen.

As Clint came of age, Evelyn teetered on the border of maturity.

"So, you're gonna be turning fifteen," noted Rogue as their small band gathered for breakfast. Remy was cooking, which meant it was going to be delicious. The rich aroma of fresh cooked French Toast filled the small kitchen. Thick slices of brioche sizzled on the buttery grill top and a caramel ooze bubbled around the edges. Everyone ignored him when he tipped bourbon from a hip flask into the eggy mixture because, quite frankly, it made the stuff taste like it was made by the hands of angels.

"Yeah," said Evelyn, "maybe next year I can start doing the driver's ed thing."

"Why would you wait so long?" Asked Rogue, leaning back in the chair so it squeaked against the linoleum. "I teach driver's ed. So if you want to meet up after regular classes, I can start instructing you."

"But I'm not old enough." Evelyn blurted out in slight panic thinking of her father. Phil would frown at the idea of her being behind the wheel without her permit.

"Please," drawled Rogue, "When I was your age, I had already been driving the dirt track races for three years."

"Really?"

"Sure, they teach you how to drive as soon as you are tall enough to reach the pedals. So long as your dad doesn't care, I can get you started driving circles in the parking lot and stuff."

Evelyn opted to forgo asking Phil's permission. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. She trooped outside one lovely afternoon for her first lesson.

Rogue's Jeep was forest green and well loved. The paint chipped slightly around the edges and the bumpers needed elbow grease and love. A dent on the bumper served as a reminder of a previous fender-bender. Despite the flaws, it was obvious Rogue adored it. The inside was neat, save for some dirt on the floor mats and spare change in the cupholders.

"My baby," she smiled, "His name is Wally."

"Is it alright that I'm driving him?"

"Sure. We're just driving in circles in the parking lot. How much trouble can we possibly get into?" Rogue tossed her the keys across the hood and they loaded into the car.

After the typical rundown of the basic functions of the car, Evelyn put her hands on the steering wheel and her feet on the pedals and began to inch around the roundabout driveway. It didn't take too long before she got the hang of the easy path. Her mind wandered as the road looped endlessly in front of her eyes.

"Brake, sugar! Brake!" squeaked Rogue as the Jeep screeched to a stop at the edge of the curb, "A little easier on the clutch, there."

"Sorry," mumbled Evelyn as she shifted into reverse, "I got a bit distracted."

"Keep your eyes on the road," reminded Rogue, "If you keep your eyes three steps ahead, nobody's gonna get the jump on you."

"And other advice?"

"Plenty, but we need to get out onto the roads for that. And I'm not going to run the risk of gettin' pulled over and gettin' you in trouble. Even though I could totally outrun the cops, even in this."

"No way."

"Yeah, way," insisted Rogue, cracking her gum. "Did it a few times growing up when we were racing."

"You raced?"

"Yeah, out on the dirt roads. We weren't supposed to, but there was a fat lot of nothing on the back roads. Nobody got hurt. It ain't like city racing where you can really mess up lotsa stuff by plowing into a building. So, as long as we didn't get out of control, nobody was complaining."

"Do you still race?"

"Not around here. Cops are a bit more hard-assed. But," she looked around conspiratorially, "on Sunday afternoons like this, I sometimes practice. I need to keep my skills sharp."

"Can you show me?"

Rogue shot her a look, "If I were to do that, you couldn't tell anyone. Understood?"

Evelyn nodded.

"And," Rogue added, "if we get pulled over, you keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking."

"Yes," Evelyn agreed.

Rogue was quiet for a moment before she held out a hand, "Give me the keys and get over here."

Evelyn hurriedly switched seats and buckled her seatbelt so it slung tight across her chest. Rogue flicked her sunglasses into place, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, "You're going to want to keep your mouth shut."

"Why?"

"So you don't swallow a bug."

Her foot hit the gas and a half a second later, dust clouds flared up around the car. The hunk of metal leapt forward, squealing in protest as it did so. The gasp froze in Evelyn's throat as the scenery whipped past her. Trees and fields zipped by. She was lost in the rush, grinning as adrenaline coursed through her veins and blue sparks danced along her arms. She opened her mouth to cheer but her voice caught in her throat as Rogue pressed her foot down and the car sped up down the long, straight road through fields of clover and the sweet scent of country air and pollen filled her lungs. She never felt so alive as the Jeep roared down the road.

Another driving lesson was underway many miles away.

"Do I really have to learn how to drive in his piece of crap?" Clint grouched as Phil tossed him a ring of keys. The Jeep was an old SHIELD transport vehicle. It showed signs of damage: bullet holes peppered the exterior panels, a crunchy dent almost obliterated the passenger door, and the back bumper appeared to be scorched and partially melted.

"Save up your paycheck and buy your own car if you don't like this one," said Phil evenly as he popped open the passenger door. It protested with a jarring squeal, "But this soldier has served us well."

"If by that you mean it's been to hell and back, sure." smiled Clint, "Why can't I drive Lola?"

"Nobody drives Lola but me," insisted Phil, "She's a classic."

"Not even Evelyn?"

Phil faltered for a moment. "We'll see how good of a driver she is."

"So she has a chance but not me? I think that is favoritism."

"Will you start the car and get this show on the road?"

Clint turned the key in the ignition. The starter whined but eventually turned over and the engine started to chug. Clint began fiddling with the gear shift when Phil stopped him.

"Check your mirrors."

"Oh, come on, do I really have to do all that driver's ed malarky?"

"Yes, they will check for that," instructed Phil, "At least make sure you can see behind you."

"Fine," grumbled Clint as he make a token attempt to fiddle with the rearview mirror. "Yeah, I can see alright. Can we go?"

"Alright go ahead and put your foot on the bare to disengage the gear shift." Clint stomped on the pedals and yanked the gear shift for a second until Phil stopped him. "Do you even know what the brake is?"

"Yeah, this pedal." he answered quickly looking down and putting his foot on the pedal.

"No that's the pedal to shift gears, the middle one is for breaking."

"Is that why it's so big?" Clint asked and then laughed at his own witticism.

Phil slapped him upside the back of his head, "Pay attention."

"Yes Sir."

They managed to make a few laps around the parking lot. Clint was hardly graceful, jerking the vehicle around like bumper cars every time he braked or switched gears. The majority of their first lesson was instruction about slowing into a stop rather than jamming on the brakes like every stop was an emergency.

"I thought you said you could drive."

"I guess I'm more used to driving shitty old tractors than shitty old cars," he cracked, trying to alleviate the mood.

"You've gotten better, though," said Phil, taking back the keys. "That's a start. Let me know when you want another lesson."

"I have a mission tomorrow, " informed Clint, "I actually get to go on an overnight assignment. We're investigating some kind of new club drug coming out of Atlanta. I'll be back by the weekend."

"Be careful," Phil smiled, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"I've kept out of trouble for a while," assured Clint, "I guess that's why I'm allowed to go this time."

"Keep up the good work," assured Phil, "I'll see you when you get home."

Clint threw up a salute to him as he left. Phil laughed and returned it, an action he hadn't done since his Army days. SHIELD had protocols but since they were technically not military, the salute was purely ceremonial... or facetious. But in Clint's case, it was neither.

Months passed, and Clint and Evelyn slogged through driving. As the latter bolstered her skills driving Rogue's Jeep around the gravel roads, Beast thought it would be beneficial for her to learn how to pilot the jet.

"Sure, why not let the teen without her permit learn to fly a plane." Evelyn said sardonically. She had been told to meet with the faculty once she was finished with her classes for the day. She assumed it would be her monthly reflection with them on classes, homework and the small missions they had gone on. She didn't feel comfortable flying a jet.

"Your dad is planning on visiting this week and will take you to the DMV. You'll be fine." Scott chimed in. Clearly annoyed with her. She bit her tongue to avoid calling him "stupid" or some permeation of the word.

Storm shot him a look and decided that she and Evelyn would fly the jet together after she read the manual. There were two X-planes, both were tough, matte black, and made up of sharp lines and sleek angles. Wear and tear around the edges betrayed the age of the planes but they were well taken care of and otherwise in good nick. Some delicate white paint work on the fins labelled them X1 and X2. Storm explained that they were nicknamed "Betty" and "Veronica."

"Betty is the training plane," explained Storm, "She handles a little nicer so we're going to use her until you get the hang of things. Veronica is the newer of the two and a bit more high tech. We typically keep her for more advanced maneuvers. Now, before we start, I want to be clear about one thing. These are transport planes, not combat. You aren't going to be doing any sort of air-to-air or surface-to-air combat here. Understood?"

"Yes," assured Evelyn. Air combat was a frightening prospect so she was relieved she wouldn't have to tackle that hurdle here.

The entire idea of being up in the air just didn't quite sit nicely with her anyway. Heights in general made her uneasy. And really, it wasn't so much heights as it was falling. The idea of tumbling from the sky in free fall with the engine aflame and the ground coming up to meet her...

She swallowed and closed her eyes to settle her queasy stomach. If she didn't think too hard about the plane crashing, she would do just fine.

Despite her hesitations, she was a bit starstruck. They were beautiful, well made planes and her fingers itched to get started flying despite her nervousness. Being in the cockpit was surreal, like she was watching a movie rather than going through the instruction in her day to day life. She took the student chair and Storm sidled up next to her and took the backup instructor position. She took off well and did a roundabout to get comfortable with the instruments on the plane. She thought of Clint and how he is probably learning the same with SHIELD.

"Check your speed as you go into land," instructed Storm, "You can't go too fast or too slow."

"Got it,' whispered Evelyn as she kept an eye trained on the odometer and another eye on the runway. Her hands were steady but her heart was jumping around her chest like a rabbit on amphetamines. Her hands clenched around the wheel. She had to remind herself that it wasn't _really_ like falling. Planes were perfectly safe, been in use for a hundred years, and unless your name was Buddy Holly, there was nothing to worry about.

"I'm not gonna crash. I'm not gonna crash!" muttered Evelyn as she pulled on the controls, forcing the nose upward and releasing the wing flaps to slow down, "No. No. No! Not going to happen."

The wheels touched down, Storm helping her along from the instructor's seat. Her first landing felt bumpy and unsteady as they slid to a stop, brakes shuddering as they pulled into the landing cycle.

"We'll work on some of the technique," promised Storm, "eventually you will do it without me here at all, but for now, you're doing okay."

Evelyn pulled her hands back from the steering wheel, seeing sweat marks where her hands were. Her legs wobbled as she stood up and exited the plane. She was grateful to be back on terra firma. But all things considered, flying wasn't nearly as bad as she thought it would be. As long as she was inside the plane, things could be okay. God forbid if ever there should come a day when she had to skydive. That experience might be too much for her to handle.

She pushed the uncomfortable feelings from her mind as she hurried to a conference call with her father Doctor McCoy, and Anita. They set up in the landline in the conference room. Hank spent the majority of the conversation explaining the situation to Anita.

"So, what is our next step?" asked Phil.

"Evelyn can stay here as long as she wants," said McCoy, "And we are happy to continue her studies here. But it won't be too much longer before she becomes too advanced for the classes I am qualified to teach. She should be in a more accelerated program. If she wants to stay here, we can find a college correspondence course she can enroll in. But, we can also find specialized schools for Evelyn. Those might be better since she can attend lectures."

Evelyn winced at the idea of sitting through lectures and not being in a lab but she understood the value and didn't let it linger in her thoughts too long. "I'll have to think about it."

McCoy nodded, "I also hate to point this out, but this school is not what you would call a resume builder."

"What? Why not?" asked Evelyn.

"Mutants aren't ubiquitously accepted," Anita piped up from the phone speaker, "There are more safeguards to keep mutants from being discriminated against in the workplace. Technically they can't refuse to hire solely because you are a mutant or associate with mutants but that doesn't mean that it doesn't happen anyway."

"Exactly," nodded McCoy, "As a young person, she has very little job experience. If this is all she has, well, it's not much to go on."

"So, she's going to be locked out of employment simply because of who she associates with?" asked Phil.

"Maybe," replied Anita, "It's hard to tell. She might find an employer who is more accepting but she might also be denied a job simply off of her association. It's best to play it safe and find other ways to bolster her resume. Food for thought."

Evelyn tapped her pencil anxiously against the table as she mulled this over. Being a grown-up and getting a job were things that she didn't really want to think about. She was barely a teenager, for goodness sakes! She wouldn't even be able to start thinking about applying for a job for at least another year. Still, she had a lot of future left and it needed to be considered.

"Have we made any headway on research into Evelyn's condition?" asked Anita, "Because my resources are kind of lacking in that department."

"I have done some follow up with Reed Richards. It's been sporadic but he does agree there are similarities between Evelyn's scans and his research. But, there is no explanation that either of us have been able to discern."

"Hold on one moment," said Phil, "I have something but it's in my briefcase."

There was a sound of him rummaging through something and the flip of papers over speakerphone. Evelyn realized he was humming something as he sorted through files. The theme was familiar but she couldn't put her finger on it right away. Anita recognized it before anyone else.

"Are you humming Spice Girls?"

"Uh…"

"You were!"

"Evelyn likes them!"

"Sure I do," Evelyn smiled across the line, "I just didn't know you were listening."

"Alright, enough you two," Phil held in a laugh, "Enough laughing at my expense."

"Aw, man," sassed Evelyn.

"Anyway," interjected Phil, "My boss is interested in this development. Partially because we have found some evidence to back up rumors of human experimentation, mostly coming out of Eastern Europe and Russia. It's nothing like what we have seen with Evelyn, but something worth following up on. We are concerned about a larger network."

Evelyn bit her lip. She didn't like where this was going but steadied her breathing and tried to keep her head level. After all, she was unsure about going to Xavier's and that turned out okay. This was just another possible path which needed to be investigated. But the idea of being a lab rat didn't sit well with her.

"When will we know details?" asked Anita.

"Unfortunately," Phil said, "This is officially top secret. What I have already said is about all I can say until it is declassified. If it turns out to be nothing, it may be declassified sooner than later. But if it ends up being a big deal… then we'll have to play it by ear and see where this goes."

"Dang you secretive government types," said Anita with a playful lit to her voice. "You're a tease, Phil!"

"It's out of my hands," he insisted. Evelyn knew that was a lie but didn't call him on it publically. He wouldn't know nearly as much as he did if Nick hadn't put him in charge of the whole thing. And, honestly, for something like this, who else would Nick trust? She made a mental note to call her father back and talk the truth out of him.

They said their goodbyes and signed off. Phil sat back in his office and organized his thoughts and papers. He glanced over the pictures on his desk and the birthday and Father's Day cards Evelyn gave him. The latest card was propped up on his desk next to the photo of her on her fifth birthday. Whenever he saw the "Best Dad Ever" in bold red letters, he smiled. Pride welled up in his chest and he wanted to hug that little girl in the picture. She was almost fifteen now. Was it really more than a decade ago when that picture was taken? Suddenly, he felt very old.

"Hey," smiled Clint, distracting Phil from his thoughts. He stood in the door, leaning against the frame. The young man placed a sloppily wrapped package on his desk, "I gotcha something, sir."

"What's it for?"

"Just a thank you gift," he explained, "for teaching me how to drive."

"You didn't have to," noted Phil. He took the blue-wrapped package between his hands. There was something touching about the fact he wrapped it himself. Even though it looked like a car ran over it.

"I wanted to," explained Clint, "It means a lot that you would do all of this for me. It's… it's awesome. You've been like a dad to me and… and thanks."

"I'm not your father, though," noted Phil, feeling somewhat silly for stating the obvious.

"Well, yeah, but," Clint looked at his feet and took a deep breath before continuing. "I don't remember that much about my dad. He left when I was a kid. Barney says he was a piece of shit. If half the stuff he says is true, then I'm in no hurry to find where the old man got off to. So, what I'm saying is... you've been more of a father to me than anyone else in my life. So, thanks."

Phil wasn't sure at what point in time he started becoming a home for lost kids but he also didn't mind. Clint smiled, shrugging his shoulders offhandedly. Phil unwrapped the gift. He could pretty much tell what it was from the sloppy wrapping and sure enough a coffee mug emerged from the paper. It was navy blue with a Captain America shield on one side. He smiled, setting the mug on his desk next to Evelyn's card.

"Thank you, Clint," he smiled. Evidently, the young agent noticed his passion for all things Captain America. "It means a lot."

"Aw, you're welcome. I'm glad you like it," he shuffled back and forth on his heels. "Hey, I'm starving and I'm stuck on standby for further orders. Do you want to run to the cafeteria with me?"

"What about your date? I thought you were taking some girl from accounting out."

"Ah, I was. But then I wasn't interested in being the 'other man' so I thought I ought to break that off before it got out of control."

"Oh,' said Phil. He wasn't sure what he expected to hear from Clint but it wasn't that. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

Clint shrugged, "I might be a bit… I might not always be able to make up my mind about which girl I like, but I date them one at a time. I'm not interested in hurt feelings. Or, you know, being chased down by angry husbands."

"Yeah, that's never fun," he gathered up his jacket so they could head out.

Clint paused, trying to process the words, "Wait… wait… have you…?"

But Phil was already out the door and heading down the hall. Clint raced after him, "Oh no you don't… What's the story? I have to know!"

After the conference call, Evelyn slunk back to her dorm room. She had a lot to think about. The idea of having to leave didn't appeal to her but she understood the reasons why it would be advantageous. The reasons were stupid, but there were valid reasons. She wanted to talk to her father in private, and probably to Anita. But it would have to be another day.

Kitty sat on the floor of their small room with a set of tools and a computer mostly disassembled across the floor. Large headphones surrounded her head and tufts of hair stuck out at an angle. Evelyn could vaguely hear her humming along to what she was almost certain was Radiohead. There were disks for Blink-182 and The Ramones around her.

"Hey," said Evelyn, testing to see if her roommate could hear her over the music. Kitty looked up from the scramble of computer parts.

"Hey! How're you?"

Evelyn made a noncommittal groaning sound, sliding her backpack off her shoulders. "Glad it is almost the weekend. I'm kind of done with this week."

"Then, you'll be excited. Friday night, a bunch of us going to hang out by the lake. Bobby said he was going to get us some booze."

"Really?"

"Yeah! I mean, no time like the present to try," said Kitty, "And you don't have to. I know Bobby is and I am. You can do what you want. You can just hang out if you would like."

"Where on earth is he even getting it?"

"Logan."

Evelyn held back a laugh, "There's no way Logan is going to get it for us. He might be the cool professor but he's not gonna do something... illegal. Not for us, at least."

"No," Kitty explained, "Bobby's nicking from his stash."

"How is he going to do that without getting a close up of the business end of Logan's claws?"

"I dunno," she shrugged, "But he said he could handle it."

"I'll believe it when I see it," muttered Evelyn, sitting on the carpet next to her. She pulled out the big volume of Shakespeare plays for her Literature class and settled down to read. "Still, I wouldn't mind heading out to the lake for a bit."

"It might be the last time before it gets rainy," noted Kitty. She grumbled something at the network of computer parts in front of her, feeling around in the carpet for a small screwdriver.

Kitty's words were almost prophetic. Thursday night and Friday morning were filled with early fall mist and light rain. Even as the worst of the weather petered off, the low-lying clouds stuck around. A blanket of gray blotted out the sun for most of the day and only started to part as the sun sank below the horizon. The clear evening meant that the party was set to go on. Under the glow of the amber porch lights, the small party slipped out into the night.

On the back end of the school property, a grove of trees surrounded a trickling stream. It led into a small pond with clear blue water and small, shiny river rocks. During the hot summer days, it was a haven for kids to wade in and cool off. Evelyn and Kitty visited the spot several times with watermelon sodas from town. They sat with their feet in the chill water when they were procrastinating on their homework, watching the birds in the trees and tossing pebbles into the pond to watch the ripples across the surface. When it froze over in the winter (or Bobby was feeling cheeky), they went skating on the glassy mirrored surface. Tonight, the small group sat on the dark knoll over the water to look at the stars and listen to the crickets in the tall grass and the trickle of water.

The goods were in a paper grocery bag tucked under Bobby's arm. He nicked two containers of Logan's beer out of the fridge. Nobody knew exactly how he did it and Bobby was evasive when asked. He also managed to pilfer a few strawberry wine coolers. Once again, nobody knew where they came from. Evelyn figured if she didn't ask, she wouldn't have to lie about it if they got caught.

Logan's beer tasted icky. It smelled strongly of yeast, like bread before it was baked. The liquid felt heavy in her mouth and left a bitter, slightly green aftertaste. Bobby seemed to tolerate it fine, but she couldn't handle it. Kitty refused to touch the stuff, claiming the stench was too much for her. She indulged in the wine coolers. Those drinks were sweet, like liquid candy. The bite of the alcohol was buried under layers of fruit. She licked her lips and the bite of alcohol stung her tongue. It wasn't altogether bad, just unfamiliar and nauseatingly saccharine. She had yet to decide if she actually liked the taste or if it was just better than the beer. Perhaps as far as alcohol was concerned, she was merely ambivalent.

Above them, the stars introduced themselves to the velvety midnight blue sky. Being a city girl, she had never once in her life seen that many stars in the night sky. With the absence of the glowing neon and flickering headlights, the faintest stars, new to her eyes, danced among the brighter, more familiar, dots of light. The milky way flowed from horizon to horizon, shimmering starlight falling on her face. Light twinkled in time with the flow of light through her body as she layed on the towel she had brought from her room, her body giving off a faint glow, coloring the surrounding grass. She was a being of stardust. Her relaxed mind wondered if the answers she thought were out there among the stars. realizing her train of thought she shook her head and wondered if her drink was affecting her a bit or if she was too deep in thought.

"You know, the world really is beautiful sometimes," mused Kitty, "Like now, I can't think of anywhere I would rather be or anything I'd rather do."

"That's nice of you to say," smiled Kurt.

Kitty cuddled in the tall grass, nesting the in fluffy mowed hay. She yawned and stretched, mellowed from drink. Kurt sat at her head. His blue skin blended with the darkness so he was a shadow among shadows. His odd, twisted, fingers ran through her hair absently, The touch allowed her to relax even more, to the point where she nearly dozed off.

"I've never seen a more beautiful sky," mused Evelyn, "Look at all the stars."

"It is something," agreed Kurt, his hand resting on Kitty's head. She rolled over and looked up into the darkness.

"Y'know, we could see more stars from space," she said, "How cool would that be? Going into space and seeing every star?"

"It's not too late. We might still have space travel in our lifetimes. We can see everything that is out there."

"Count me in!" shouted Bobby from a few feet away. "How cool would it be to be completely weightless and just… y'know, float?"

"Maybe you can ask Storm about that," commented Kurt, "Or Jean."

"Or if you feel ballsy, you can ask Magneto," piped up Kitty.

"Yeah," Bobby snickered, "That's the first thing I am going to ask Magneto: flight."

The boys went down to the water's edge, looking for smooth river rocks to skip. A choir of crickets chirped from the trees and the fields, filling the still of the night with their chorus. Frogs croaked among the tall, reedy grass. Bobby yelped when one jumped into his face and he nearly tumbled head over heels into the water.

"Piotr looks nice, doesn't he?" whispered Kitty, her voice hidden by the laughter of the boys and Bobby's profanity.

Evelyn's eyes flicked over to where the boys were skipping stones across the mirror-like surface of the shallow pond. Piotr had a sweet, almost boyish face, with wide puppy-dog eyes. His innocent features were almost lost in his impressive frame. His shoulders were broad and with arms and legs like tree trunks. Piotr didn't seem to have anything to drink. If he did, it certainly wasn't affecting him. Kitty and Bobby were the only two who imbibed more than a sip or two. He sat on the edge of the water, staring pensively into the shimmering surface with a distant look in his eyes.

"He's really more your type, Kitty. No offense," she said, "I'm glad you like him."

"Okay," she smiled, "So who is your type?"

"Harrison Ford," she said, half flippantly.

"Like, Harrison Ford as Han Solo or his role in Patriot Games?"

"Like, Indiana Jones."

Kitty paused over the wine cooler for a second, "Yeah. I can see it. You have good taste. But Temple of Doom was freaking terrifying."

"But awesome."

"Oh, yeah, awesome. But… open heart surgery!"

"I actually get more freaked out when they were eating the monkey brains. That's when it started to lose me."

"Yeah, my mom hated that scene," said Kitty softly, "I remember the first time we watched it together, she had to leave the room. Left her knitting behind and everything."

It occurred to Evelyn that Kitty rarely mentioned her parents. Part of her wondered if there was a story there and if it would be polite to pry.

She bit her lip and did so anyway. "Are they, you know, okay with your...?"

"They're okay with it. They mean well and they obviously want to help but I don't think they entirely understand it. They don't really try to interact or talk about it, they're just glad I'm getting help, not just the education hut the medical attention. Part of me wonders what would happen if my mutation was more visible like Kurt's or Hank's. I'd like to think they would be cool with it but I really don't know."

The two of them were silent for a long moment, listening to the symphony of noise around them and the raucous laughing of the boys. Bobby was the most inebriated of all of them, stumbling around and singing some nonsense which was difficult to hear from this distance. It didn't pass Evelyn's notice that Kitty was staring right at her crush.

"You should go talk with him," suggested Evelyn, nudging her friend.

"You think?" Kitty looked nervous, fidgeting with her jacket.

"Why not?" countered Evelyn, "It won't hurt."

"I guess not. But what would I talk about?"

"I don't know! Class or whatever, I guess," suggested Evelyn, "Talk about what you would talk about with me or Kurt."

"That… doesn't sound too bad."

"It's really not," Evelyn gave her a light push between the shoulder blades, "Go ahead… go…"

Kitty started down the hill and settled next to Piotr. They spoke in low voices, lost by the gentle splash of water from the lake. A chill fall wind rushed from the northeast and she pulled her jacket closer to her chest to block out the cold.

Part of her missed Clint. This sort of thing seemed like the shenanigans he would enjoy: sneaking booze, goofing off, and staying up way past lights out. He was probably doing exactly this sort of thing with other agents, she reasoned.

Bobby bumped into a tree. He stepped back uncertainly, running a fond hand over the bark. He muttered, "Sorry dude."

He walked about two more steps before his knees buckled and he fell into the grass. Kitty laughed as a puff of frost poofed into the air and a rime of ice danced across the lawn. He made a muffled noise from the dirt.

"Are you okay?" Evelyn raced over to where Bobby lay, ignoring the chill pinching at her fingertips.

"M'fine," he smiled, looking up, "I just… I missed the bed!"

He snickered and Kitty seemed to be infected with his same sense of giggles. The pair laughed until Kitty was bent over, holding onto her stomach. She complained of being sore from laughing but not before choking out another rough laugh.

"Alright," said Evelyn, as the giggles abated, "I'll carry you. You are in no shape to walk."

"Scott'll catch us, and then we will be in big, big, big trouble," said Kitty worriedly.

Evelyn pondered it for a moment, "We could wait it out until morning and make some excuse for why we are outside. Or we can try to sneak in."

"Don't be silly," said Kurt, speaking up at long last, "I'll help so we get inside, no worse for wear."

Evelyn could have slapped a hand to her forehead. It completely didn't occur to her that Kurt could teleport them inside before you could say "poof." She actually wasn't fond of the journey. It was hot and dusty and smelled like rotten eggs. But everyone got to bed and Evelyn was grateful to slip under the warm sheets. She could still feel the prickle of the icy wind on her skin, weaving between the folds of her jacket. Kitty tossed and turned restlessly on the bunk above her but Evelyn soon found it easy to tune her out and slip away to dreams.

When she awoke in the morning, it was a simple matter of following her nose down the hall to the kitchenette. Kitty was, miraculously, awake before her and bent over the stovetop. Kurt was sitting at the table eating one of the grilled cheese sandwiches Kitty made. The whole room smelled warm and bready.

"Hey," smiled Kitty when she noticed Evelyn wander in, "I made breakfast."

"I noticed," said Evelyn, "Anything I can do to help?"

Kitty pushed the plate toward her, "Eat up."

"Don't mind if I do," interjected Evelyn, scooping up one of the sandwiches.

It oozed cheese and smelled like butter. Darn it if it wasn't one of the greasiest things she ever put in her mouth but it was delicious and warm. She poured herself a cup of coffee and enjoyed her sandwiches, eating them as fast as Kitty made them.

"How do you get these so… perfect," she muttered, mouth full of cheese.

"There's a trick to it," explained Kitty, "You have to smear some cream cheese on the bread and then you use the cheddar to seal it in. It makes it all ooey-gooey and yummy."

"Nice," Evelyn smiled, "Need me to do dishes or anything?"

"Kurt already offered. But you can make another pot of coffee. That will be a big help."

"Right up my alley."

Logan entered the kitchen once the girls finished another batch of sandwiches and the coffee was perfuming the hall. Wearing worn jeans and a wife beater, he took a big sniff and looked at the pile of cheesy carbs. His nose detected something else.

"You kids owe me for the beer," muttered Logan in an undertone. Evelyn and Kitty stopped dead in their tracks and looked over at him curiously.

"How-?"

"I can smell the booze all over you," he interjected, "Bobby's room absolutely reeks."

Kitty and Evelyn exchanged a sheepish glance. There was no way to deny anything. Logan had a nose like a bloodhound. Kurt glanced up at them from the table, innocently munching on his grilled cheese.

Evelyn picked her words carefully, "Is there anything we can do to…?"

"I won't tell," said Logan, "You're kids. Kids do this sort of shit. But don't go making this a thing or you will get in trouble and I won't save you."

"We won't, we promise," said Kitty quickly.

"What can we do to repay you?" asked Evelyn almost at the same time.

"Eh, hell," Logan grumbled, "guess you are too young to go and buy more. But I will take a few of those sandwiches and we can call it even. And clean up. Or Scott will smell you and wonder what happened. And he won't be as nice as I am."

Kitty passed the plate over to where Logan was sitting. He took three sandwiches to start and then went back for a fourth. Evelyn smiled over her coffee. Kitty was a darn good cook. And it was a good thing too. Her cooking skills saved their butts.

"Bobby isn't up yet," noted Kitty.

"He felt ill this morning," piped up Kurt, "I let him sleep."

"I'll check on him," offered Evelyn. She pulled a can of ginger ale from the fridge, just in case he needed hydration.

His room was dark, just as Kurt left it. When she opened the curtains, Bobby groaned when the light hit his eyes. The blankets coiled around his waist and he scrambled to pull something up and over his face to block out the hated sunrays. He squinted open finally, his eyes unfocused and red around the edges.

"Hey," Evelyn whispered, placing the soda on the nightstand, "How are you?"

"Awful," he muttered, shoving his face deep into the recesses of his pillow.

"Do you want Tylenol or ibuprofen?"

"Tylenol, please."

Evelyn cracked open the safety lid of the bottle and pulled two small pills from the inside and set them on the nightstand next to the glass of soda. He stirred, rolling over to reach the medicine. But he was careful to keep his eyes closed and avert his gaze from the bright light. He downed the pills and fell back into the bed. Evelyn pulled a lock of blond hair from the boy's eyes.

"Kitty is making grilled cheese. Do you want me to bring you up a sandwich?"

He made a groaning noise she interpreted as a "yes." It seemed one-word answers were about all he was capable of, if that. She nodded put her hand out and felt the energy rush into her palm as she sent wisps of energy towards his head, wanting to alleviate the pressure in his head. There seemed to be no effect but at least it didn't make things worse. She frowned as she got up to leave. Pills, hydration, and food would help.

"Never again," declared Bobby as she left, "I am not drinking that much ever again."


	20. Pt 2 Ch 8: Seeing Red

A loud bang echoed up and down the wood-paneled halls, jarring students awake in the middle of the night. At first, Evelyn assumed it was a peal of thunder from the storm outside and tried to go back to sleep. But she found it difficult when she heard feet running up and down the corridors and another series of bangs coming from inside the building.

She climbed out of bed, noting that Kitty was still asleep. She took a sleeping pill because her migraine headaches were giving her trouble that week. A sentinel could crash through the front door and Kitty would completely miss it. Evelyn hoped that wasn't what was going on.

The banging noise grew louder as she pulled open the door and peeked into the hall. Right now, the passage was empty. Rain thudded against the roof as she crept along. Tree branches scratched against the siding and squeaked against the windows. Another noise, this time sounding like glass breaking resounded from the next hall followed by a flurry of feet.

Evelyn turned the corner and Bobby ran headlong into her. In his shock, a small burst of frost danced along the carpet. He yelped and jumped back, waving his hands around in an approximation of a karate chop.

"Jesus Christ!" he squeaked when he saw who he ran into, "You scared the piss outta me."

"Sorry. I heard a noise."

He looked up sighing, "Yeah. I did too. It's Jean."

"What?"

"She's having an episode. Shit's flying around everywhere and it's just a mess. We gotta go find Logan or Professor X."

"Is she hurt?" asked Evelyn.

Bobby faltered, "I didn't ask. She wasn't exactly herself."

Evelyn paused for a moment then pushed past him. She hurried up the hall and Bobby followed on her heels.

"Don't go in there," insisted Bobby, "You're insane."

"If she is ill, then someone needs to stay with her in case she needs emergency help. Go get the professor, I'm strong enough I can handle her if things get out of control."

Bobby bit his lip, torn between two separate, yet equal, duties. Finally, he let out a deep breath and hurried up the hall toward help. He got in one more comment over his shoulder before he left.

"You're nuts."

"I know," muttered Evelyn, pushing the door to Jean's room open. A pair of scissors flew across the room, right toward her face. She slammed the door shut and the metal object thudded against it. The tiniest point of the scissors poked through the other side.

Taking a deep breath, Evelyn opened the door again and darted inside. Objects were floating around the room. Jean was twitching on the bed, her back contorted into a painful arc. Her eyes rolled back into her skull and then around to the front again, glowing like golden fire.

Pausing at all would give Evelyn time to be nervous and she didn't like that idea. She stepped forward with confidence she didn't know she had.

"Jean?"

The other girl sat bolt upright in bed. Her eyes blazed with what could only be called rage. It was as though her insides were set aflame and burning in the shell of her body. Red hair swirled around her face like medusa's snakes. Her voice was no longer her own, it was low, rumbling, and full of venom.

"GET OUT!" She roared. Evelyn felt Jean's telepathy attempting to get a hold on her, she projected a shield around her drawing off of the energy Jean was releasing. It was only a temporary measure until someone else could get there.

A small metal object, maybe a spoon, flew through the air toward her. It melted in the air before reaching Evelyn, dripping to the floor like silvery winter raindrops. No sooner had Evelyn recovered from that attack that she heard an ominous creak to the side. A massive oak bookshelf wiggled loose from the bolts holding it to the wall and creaked at an awkward angle. With a jump, Evelyn moved out of the way of the falling shelf attempting to create a shield but didn't quite make it.

The massive antique shelf slammed against her left leg. Evelyn screamed as the bone cracked, knee breaking, and ribs bruising under the strain of the shelf. Throat burning, brain scrambled in pain, Evelyn wasn't aware of the waves of energy exploding from her body in ripples as she screamed. Jean was thrown backward by the waves, head slamming against the headboard of the bed. She was knocked out for the count and all the hovering objects clattered to the floor in a jumbled mess.

With a sob, Evelyn felt the energy ebb and retreat back into her body. Pain shot up her leg in bolts. With an almighty shove, Evelyn pushed the bookshelf off her and freed herself. She collapsed onto the carpet; dizzy, sick, and in more pain than she could ever remember in her life. The room swam in and out around her as she tried to put her thoughts back together.

"I got her," said a familiar voice as big, beastly hands picked her up. Evelyn protested at first when her leg was jarred but then felt too weak to do much more. "I'll need to set that leg before she heals it further."

"Is Jean okay?" snapped another voice laced with panic. Scott was there. Joy of joys.

"She will be fine," said Beast, "No worse for wear, although maybe with a little bit of a headache."

"A bit of a headache? She's bruised."

"Very well, bring her down to the infirmary and I will look at her as well," Beast sighed before muttering under his breath, "And then I will carry her back upstairs."

Evelyn would have laughed if she hadn't passed out before being able to do so.

She wasn't sure how long she was out but it couldn't have been too long. Her eyes fluttered open and she was met by the harsh blue-white lights of the infirmary. The light seared into her eyes and she groaned in pain, throwing her arms up over her eyes. Suddenly, she became aware of the rest of the pains along her chest, stomach, and most especially down her legs. Every tiny movement allowed new pains to introduce themselves.

"Evelyn?" she could hear McCoy's soft voice just off to her left, "Are you awake?"

"Nope. I'm dead. I feel like I'm dead."

He chuckled softly and there was the squeak of a chair as he pulled it over to where she lay among the rough linens. The room smelled like bleach and starch. She still couldn't stand to open her eyes. The light would surely blind her.

"Evelyn," Beast spoke, pulling her out of her stupor, "Are you well enough for me to set your leg?"

She didn't want to. It was going to hurt. But she squeezed her eyes tightly shut and nodded. Tears stung at the edges of her eyes, burning like acid as they rolled down her cheeks.

"You will thank me later when I don't have to break your leg in order to set it," said Beast grabbing her knee firmly, but gently, "That would be more painful than this. Are you ready?"

"Just don't tell me when- AUGH! S-shit!…"

With a sickening crack, Evelyn felt her leg fall into place. Her lip quivered in pain and more hot, burning tears dribbled from the corners of her eyes. Beast stepped back to admire his work.

"Glad we got that in place. Let me take an X-ray to make sure it's in the right place. Can you handle that without draining the energy and giving me a blank slide?"

"I… I don't know…" sobbed Evelyn, reeling in shock. Everything simultaneously hurt more and felt better.

Beast rested a hand on her shoulder, "I need you to take a deep breath in through the nose…."

Evelyn obeyed.

"And out."

Again and again they repeated the exercise until Evelyn stopped crying. The leg wasn't so much in pain anymore as it was uncomfortable and bloated. Beast placed an ice pack on it to reduce the swelling. She finally opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling tiles. Black dots danced in front of her eyes.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah."

"Alright then. I'll take an x-ray. Just relax."

Evelyn wiped her nose on her sleeve, "Okay."

"I'm surprised that shelf didn't crush you. That old thing is heavy. Even I have trouble moving it."

He set up the machine around her leg. She finally got a look at the damage. Her pajama pants were rolled up onto her thigh to reveal a thick bruise just below her knee. It was mostly purple with little red lines where the blood vessels were running just under the skin. The edges were starting to turn a sickly greenish yellow but it was nowhere near healed just yet. She pulled up the bottom hem of her shirt and saw a series of bruises peppering her stomach and extending up to her chest. Immediately, she pulled the fabric back down over her belly and lay back. Seeing that sort of carnage on her body made a sick, panicky feeling swirl in her stomach. She lay back and tried to think of anything else to keep her mind off of things.

"Okay," said Hank, looking at the x-ray, "It's a closed fracture and a dislocation of the knee but it could have been much worse. You are lucky it landed where it did. It could have been a comminuted fracture. Then we would have trouble."

"How is this better?" stammered Evelyn, gripping the side of the bed so the metal bend slightly under her fingers.

"Comminuted fractures are crushed bones and they require more care. We've already taken care of the dislocation," said Hank calmly, "And you will heal the rest of it quickly. I just need you to relax for a moment and not move the limb while I look up one or two things. Can you handle yourself for a few minutes?"

"I dunno…"

Hank knelt down to be on eye level with her as she reclined on the hospital bed. "The battle is half fought and half won. The worst is over."

She sighed and nodded as he turned and walked over to the computers. At that time, she became aware that Jean was over at the next bed. Evelyn's breath caught in her throat when she saw her but then relaxed when she saw that the other girl was still sleeping… or passed out. There were small electrodes on her forehead and woven through her ginger hair connected to a machine. Green waves danced across the screens in regular patterns. Her eyelids twitched but she wasn't the strange, monstrous form anymore. In her restful state, she appeared almost tranquil. But it was hard to forget the glow of boiling flames from hollow eye sockets. Evelyn turned away and did her best to expunge that memory.

The door burst open with an almighty bang, startling Evelyn from her seat. She whimpered when she moved her leg. It felt better but still protested at being moved. Scott bounded across the room in three steps to Jean's side, almost entangling himself in the cords moving from her bed.

"Is she okay?"

"Her brain waves have retreated back to the normal pattern," explained Hank smoothly and calmly, "Whatever was playing with her brain has left, for the moment."

"Will it return?"

"I can't say for certain. Telepathy is not really my department. Her and Xavier will need to work that out later. For now, sleep is the best thing for her."

"She banged her head!" Scott shot what would be a nasty glare over at Evelyn if she could properly see it. "She could be concussed."

"I doubt it," said Hank, "But I will check her when she wakes up. Frankly, I'm more concerned about whatever it was that tried to wiggle around in her brain. We don't know if it was another telepath, some sort of telepathic entity, or maybe something we know nothing about. It could be bad."

"How bad?"

"Worst case scenario? We're all at risk. I don't know the odds of that. I don't know if anyone knows the odds of that."

Evelyn bit her lip. This entire thing made her nervous. She was able to shield against whatever it was that was in Jean. She had never tried using the shield against telepathy but it didn't make sense that it would work. Her expertise lay in the world of energy. Were thoughts actually energy, technically? She didn't know. When she brought it up, Scott turned slowly toward her, mouth turned up into a twist.

"You are hopelessly reckless," hissed Scott.

"And you're hopelessly pigheaded," retorted Evelyn angrily, trying not to shift her leg, "I am trying to help, which is more than anyone else was doing."

"Everyone else was staying out of the way, which is what you should do too," threatened Scott, "You stick your nose in things that you can't control or handle."

"At least I'm trying! No one was doing anything and staying out of the way isn't going to help the situation. At least I care enough to do something!"

Scott leaned back a little bit. Evelyn knew she probably hit a nerve but she couldn't bring herself to care, especially not after how Scott was treating her.

"That's enough, both of you," said Hank quickly, but firmly, to cut the conversation off before it escalated out of control, "Scott. I need you to go find Professor X. Tell him I need him here right away. He was going to Cerebro to try to track this thing. Evelyn, I need to take a new scan to see how you are healing."

Scott was reluctant to leave, his eyes glancing over to Jean. When Hank assured him that it would be okay, he finally left. Hank's arms looped under her legs and supported her back. His claws glanced across her body, rustling the fabric. With a single, smooth motion, she was lifted from the hospital bed and into a waiting wheelchair. She could put her leg up on the metal stand and it felt better. Hank wheeled her over to the small radiology center.

"That was a rather unwise thing to do," said Hank softly as they entered the x-ray room, "You shouldn't antagonize him."

"He started it," pouted Evelyn childishly.

"Please understand, Jean is a sensitive subject for him. She was the only one who would spend any time with him during his first weeks," he explained as he set up the machines, "And he has been especially accepting of her throughout all her troubles. They're good for each other."

"Yeah, birds of a feather," grumbled Evelyn. For the sake of tact, she decided not to say that two jerk people were obviously perfect for each other. But her bitterness seeped through anyway.

Hank chuckled a little, "Be nice. Scott may be blunt but he means well. I'm sure you two will understand each other eventually, if you try."

"I doubt it."

Hank sighed, realizing she didn't want to. "Whatever you say. Can you stand?"

"I think so," grumbled Evelyn as she helped herself up using the wheelchair and the side of the examination table.

"Don't strain yourself."

"Yeah, I won't."

She pushed herself onto the table and waited for Hank to finish up the rest of the procedure. Her leg didn't hurt anymore but it still felt clinched and sore. The wounds seemed older… like it was broken three weeks instead of three hours ago. She felt eternally grateful for her ability to heal quickly. Limping around for weeks was not something she was keen on doing and fortunately she didn't have. By the time Hank released her from the infirmary, she could walk on her own. She needed to take it slow. There would be no running marathons for the next few days but she didn't have anything like that planned anyway.

Kitty was still out for the count when Evelyn returned. By some miracle she slept through the chaos. Early morning light crept in through the window, mostly blotted out by clouds and stained gunmetal gray by the stormy skies. The rain lessened but hadn't stopped. Big raindrops plopped against the glass and rolled down toward the lawn. She sat down, leg propped up. Hank told her that she needed to exercise it to keep it from stiffening up, and she would, but first there was something she needed to do, something that she also promised Hank she would do. She dug her red Nokia phone out of her bag and dialed a familiar number as she went out into the hall to keep from waking her roommate.

It was only after the phone had run three times when she realized it was five in the morning and her father may not be awake just yet. But he caught it on the fourth ring. His voice sounded tired and Evelyn felt a little bit guilty but she knew what she had to do.

"Evelyn? What's up?" he asked, shoving sleep from his voice.

"Ah," she paused for a second, trying to figure out how exactly to tell him.

"Evelyn, honey, what's happened?"

"Dad, I broke my leg," she said it all at once. There was no sense giving it a preamble or beating around the bush.

"What?"

"It's a… long story. But to sum up, there was an incident involving telekinesis," she said quickly, "And a giant bookshelf landed on me."

Phil stammered on the other side of the phone. He wasn't sure what he was expecting during a phone call at five in the morning but it wasn't that. After a moment of stunned silence, he finally rediscovered his tongue and spoke.

"Are you okay?"

"Stiff," she griped, "And a bit sore. But I'm fine. I've pretty much healed up."

Phil sighed, resting his hand against his forehead. "As long as you're okay...I guess… I can't be too mad. But start from the beginning, what happened?"

Evelyn regaled the story of the whole morning: Jean's fit, the bookshelf falling on her, the argument with Scott, Hank's suspicion that there was some sort of telekinetic phenomena. There were several points where she was sure Phil would interject. But he kept his mouth shut and waited for her to finish her story.

He was quiet for a long moment on the other end of the line, "I'm glad you told me."

"I know. I wanted to be the one to tell you rather than a professor. No offense to them, but… I wanted to be the one to… I didn't want you to hear it from someone else."

"I'm going to be a crazy father here for a minute," he warned. Evelyn groaned but his voice came through the line more insistent than before. "I am scared for you. You know if something happened, I don't know what I would do. I know you are… you have gotten used to being independent. I respect that. But don't be… don't be foolish."

"Papa…"

"I know you do a lot of dangerous things every day. I understand that. But I do worry. I worry a lot."

"Dad, what you do is dangerous, too. I worry about you all the time too. But… but I know why you do it. It's because it matters and because people need help. You know that, I know that."

"I know," he sighed, "But it doesn't negate the fact that we need to be careful in both our respective lives. And, also, you know… you don't need to be in danger anymore."

"Dad?"

"Hear me out. Have you thought any about what Professor McCoy and Anita have said?"

She really hadn't, not as much as she should. It was the sort of thing that she didn't want to think over that much but she knew she had to. Her time here, at Xavier's school, was most likely limited. It was just a matter of finding out when her expiration date was.

"I've thought a little bit."

"I think you need to think on it a lot," said Phil, "You're smart. You should look over your options. I mean, you don't have to do this. This is no longer your only option. You don't _have_ to put yourself in danger. Not anymore."

If Hank and Anita were right, staying would actually be _detrimental_ for her if she wanted any sort of normal future. That fact pushed against her, forcing her hand. Pushing from the other side was her friendship. Going back into the world meant being unable to reveal her powers, having to pretend to be normal again. She wouldn't have friends she could be totally honest with. She wouldn't have friends in school like she had in Kitty and Clint. When she vocalized her fears, Phil considered it.

"I'm not going to make your decision for you," said Phil, "But you don't have to live in danger anymore. You can be… a teenager. And you'll always have Kitty. And Clint. Neither of them are going to stop being your friend just because you made a decision."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because that's what friends do," he insisted. In an instant, he thought of Maria, Nick, Sharon, and Bobbi and Rick Parker over at Oscorp as well as countless others he worked with over the years. He thought of Anita and their long phone calls. All of them were dearest of friends and he wouldn't trade his time with them for anything. He cleared his throat and continued.

"Your friends, your real friends, want only what is good for you. Even though it may mean you go separate paths, it doesn't mean they don't care," he reasoned. "It's food for thought."

"I know," she whispered, rubbing her knee and sending a flurry of starry light over the bruised skin. She wasn't vain, really, but she didn't want people asking questions about the marks during class. "I will consider it."

Phil groaned and it sounded like he was getting out of bed. Evelyn instantly felt guilty for waking him up. When she apologized, Phil waved her off.

"I need to get up anyway. Nick and I have a debrief this morning."

"Anything I should know about?"

Phil paused on the other end of the line before speaking. "Strictly speaking, it's classified."

"Dad. I called your secure line."

"True," he noted, "and it actually somewhat concerns you. But you can't breathe a word of this to anyone not even Clint. We may be bringing him on the project but we don't know for sure yet."

"What is it?"

Phil took a deep breath, "A very long story is what it is. You remember how Captain America was made from the special superpower serum?"

"Yeah. I saw the TV special about it," she replied. There was actually a movie coming out that she already planned on going to with her father.

"Well, what most people don't know is that after the war, lots of people tried to replicate the serum," he explained, "Most of the time, it didn't work. But, in the early days of SHIELD, when Peggy Carter was director, she ordered a lot of people to follow up on the results of these experiments. And there were some which showed promise. There were some that ended badly. Some which were... inhumane."

"Really?" She clenched her hand around the phone a bit. If this line of logic was going where she thought it might be, she might not like the end result.

"We're reopening some of those case files," said Phil, "Nick is curious. He wants to know if anything in there relates to you."

"He thinks I might be whatever Captain America is?"

"We don't know," admitted Phil, "a lot of these files have been sealed for thirty or forty years since they seemed no longer relevant. But, in light of... you... we're cracking the box open and following back up."

Evelyn rubbed her eyes tiredly. "God, that is so weird to think."

"I'll let you know if we find anything of interest," he promised, "but don't get your hopes up. I'm expecting a lot of dead ends. Peggy Carter did a good job of making sure the loose ends were taken care of."

With that charming subject on her mind, Evelyn bid her father farewell and promised to think on her future plans. In honesty, the whole thing left her nervous. Some part of her said she should be proud to be following the footsteps of super soldiers but she couldn't shake one thing.

 _Inhumane._

It was torture to keep her mouth shut and not say anything to Kitty or call Clint for advice. She promised her father she wouldn't talk about it. But it honestly bothered her that she might be some kind of weird science experiment. An experiment which may have very well been unethical. After all, whatever they did to her had to happen when she was a baby, or maybe even still in the womb.

Oh, God, she hadn't thought of that! Had someone done something to her mother? What about her father? Where were they now? Were they even still alive? Or were they two anonymous donors offering up cellular matter and then forgotten?

Throughout the day, people asked if she was okay. They were asking about her leg. She said it was fine and it honestly was. Super - fast healing was truly a blessing. But different things gnawed on her mind like a pack of ravenous dogs around a pile of marrow bones.

 _I'm not fine. Everything I thought I knew and understood is slowly imploding around me._

Most days, she would finish up her class and go down to the lab to help Hank put together labs for the next class and clean up the glassware from the day. It was peaceful, quiet, and she could wind down from the stresses of the day. That is to say most days, she was able to wash away the stresses of the day. Today, there was too much stress for just one day.

She finally broke down when Dr. McCoy asked how she was doing with her leg. Not completely, of course, but at the same time her emotions stewed inside her all day. It was like a shaken can of soda and the slightest dent in her delicately crafted emotional stability would cause a mess. There were tears lingering in her eyes as she started to let the flood out of her. "I can't help but think that maybe... there is just something really, really wrong with me."

Hank turned his head, his large gold eyes filled with concern, "How do you mean?"

"I mean, if I'm not a mutant then… then something really wrong has happened to me to cause my powers, right?" she sniffled and continued. "I'm some kind of scientific… accident."

"You mustn't think that," insisted Hank as he loaded samples into the centrifuge and retrieved a box of Kleenex for Evelyn. His claws left small indentations in the cardboard. "Just because you don't test for the mutant genes doesn't mean that you are somehow fundamentally flawed. Be a dear and hit the yellow button on the centrifuge for me."

Evelyn pushed the tiny start button and the machine begin to whir. The tiny vials spun in the machine until they were nothing more than a pink blur. Ordinarily watching the machine spin like a mad carousel was oddly calming to her, but today her mind was a mess and the machine wasn't quite as endearing.

"There are many interesting things about the world," he continued, sitting on his specially-built chair to accommodate his beastly frame and gait and facing Evelyn with warm golden eyes, "Mutations are one phenomena. There are others. But I will admit that yours is especially unique. I haven't seen anything quite like it. I find it exciting."

She didn't know what she was expecting to hear from Hank but it wasn't that, "Exciting?"

"Most people look at the unknown with fear. They're scared of things they don't understand or don't know anything about. But I think it is better to look at the unknown with a healthy dose of excitement. There are things to be explored, things to be discovered, beauty to be uncovered. These will never be found if all we do is hide from the unknown and pretend it is not there."

Evelyn sat with her hands in her lap, mulling over the words. The room was silent, save for the buzz of the centrifuge motor. It didn't answer her questions. The situation was not suddenly clear just from those simple words. But, it did help. It was a light in the darkness, a flash of hope. Maybe it would be enough.

"I just… I really hoped… I hoped that I would find an answer. I hoped it would be easy. Being a mutant would just explain everything. I could be okay with that. It's the not knowing that's really… frustrating."

"Nothing is ever just that simple," said Beast, "Even being a mutant."

Evelyn felt like there was a story behind that statement but she didn't know if it would be prudent to ask about it. Instead, she started putting away lab glassware on the shelf. Beakers, graduated cylinders, and flasks lined up in neat little rows, shiny and clean.

"Have you considered any of your further education options?" asked Hank, breaking the silence as they gathered up reagent bottles for acid-base titrations the next day.

"Ugh," Evelyn groaned as she picked out the phenolphthalein bottle from the shelf. "No, not as much as I should. I know."

"Any reason why not?" he asked, placing large bottles of acid in the cart.

She sighed, "I think… I think it is because this place is the only place where I might be able to find answers… about who I am."

He glanced over his glasses, "You don't think your father and SHIELD can help you?"

Evelyn paused, stammering. She really hadn't thought about it like that. Although it did make sense, what with her father working on the… project, the one she couldn't talk about. There were scientists in SHIELD. They _could_ help, she supposed.

"Well, they tried," she rationalized, "But they're busy with other projects and they really haven't had to deal with something like me before."

"Well," Hank started pushing the cart back into the lab, "there is one more thing Xavier wants to try. We hoped we wouldn't have to do it, but it is worth giving a shot at this point."

"What is it?" asked Evelyn, almost skipping to keep up with his long stride.

"Xavier has a theory that the answers to your past may be found in your earliest memories," he explained, "The time before you were adopted."

Evelyn tried to think back as far back as she could. Her life with her father was all she knew, or so she thought. Maybe there was something back before but she couldn't recall it. She closed her eyes and tried to think back as far as she could.

The earliest memory she could recall was the carpet in the old apartment. It was all the way back when she was about four or so. The old apartment had very distinctive carpet in the living room area. It was kind of yellowish green and flecked with tufts of ivory. The color was ugly but the material was soft. She loved rolling around in the soft, fluffy carpet or resting on her stomach while watching a movie. It was the carpet she crawled on as a baby, learned how to walk on, played on. The carpet of the old apartment wasn't a particularly useful memory. It seemed strange that, of all things, this would be the memory that stood out. Perhaps there was something else lingering in the back of her mind... something that she didn't want to remember.

"Would Professor X even be able to find it?"

Hank shrugged, "Perhaps. We're waiting to hear back from your father before we do anything."

Evelyn frowned, "Why?"

"Well, you are a minor so we have to get parent permission before performing any sort of medical tests on you," explained Hank.

"That's never stopped us before."

"Telepathy is different than just taking a few blood samples. In order to reach your deepest memories, we will probably have to sedate you so your consciousness doesn't get in the way. That needs to be done professionally. On top of that, there is a possibility you could be left in a vegetative state if the telepathy goes badly. We can't, in good conscience, risk the possibility without your father having the chance to weigh in."

"It's my brain," insisted Evelyn, "I should be able to do what I want with it."

Hank chuckled, "I like your spark. But I also don't want to be held responsible for putting someone's child into a coma. Will you turn off the centrifuge for me? The samples should be just about settled."

"Okay," sighed Evelyn as she turned off the machines and watched the machine slow to a stop. The samples were separated out into a red section on the bottom and the straw-colored viscous oil along the top.

There was a chance. It was small, it might end up being nothing, but it was there. She might find her past, buried in her brain. As she finished up her lab work, she made a promise to herself. After this, she would focus on picking out a new school. But for now, for now there was hope.


	21. pt 2 ch 9: Golden Truth

Finals week bared down on them like a storm over the north Atlantic. Everyone knew the storm was coming but everyone dealt with it in different ways. Evelyn sequestered herself in the lab most days and spent her free time trying to figure out options for her further education. She sent out applications for two colleges to start on her GED but hadn't heard back from any of them. There were also some high schools in New York her father and Anita found which _might_ accept her even with her background at Xavier's. She filled out those applications and ran them out to the mailbox between the sporadic rain showers that occurred over the last couple of months leading up to spring finals.

Now she found herself staring into a gas spectrometer, waiting for it to finish. Technically the project wasn't due for another two weeks but she wanted to finish the lab section so she could finish the report early. Right now it was a waiting game until the snot-colored mixture she extracted finished being analyzed by the machine.

Fortunately, Kitty arranged a study party down in the labs so they wouldn't be working alone. It was nice to have a group, especially since in the quiet lab the whirr of the machine served as a soothing lullabye. Over the past two days, Evelyn caught herself nodding off twice in the silence and stillness. Across the table, Kitty had a stack of thick books peppered with bright sticky notes. The smell of yellowing paper and old binding glue perfumed the air. Kurt had another stack with him plus one of the school laptops. The shape of his hands made it cumbersome to hold a pen for long periods of time, so he preferred to type if at all possible. Even then it was a slow, methodical process. Kitty or Evelyn sometimes helped. It had been some time since anyone spoke. The air was still save for the rustle of pages and the click of machinery

"Augh!" Kitty groaned after several minutes of pure silence. Kurt jumped and almost fell out of his chair. Kitty continued, "I have read the same sentence five times and it still makes no sense! My brain is _fried_! _FRIED_!"

Evelyn looked up at the clock on the wall, it was just after six o'clock in the evening. "I guess it's about time for dinner. We could take a break."

"Don't your booger bubbles have to cook for a bit longer?"

"Protein strands," corrected Evelyn, "And they'll be fine for a bit. I'm hungry."

As if on cue, her stomach let out a low rumble. So the small group went upstairs for dinner. Piotr and Bobby were sitting across from Remy and Rogue so their groups merged to chat over burritos and an enormous bag of tortilla chips.

"So, where've y'all been all day?" asked Rogue, cracking open a can of Dr. Pepper.

"Final projects," said Kurt. Really there was no further explanation needed. Finals were a black hole, eating up all free time and energy.

Remy smiled knowingly, "So, what can I look forward to seeing on Presentation Day?"

"I'm doing my report on mutants in mythology," explained Kitty, jumping in first because she was genuinely excited about her project, "Heroes like Hercules and Gilgamesh have special abilities. It could be that they were mutants and their status as demigods is really just a primitive understanding of mutations. So, I'm using our modern knowledge of mutants to analyze mythology and find out if there is a connection. Evelyn's doing something science-y."

"I'm comparing mutant cellular protein synthesis to human to examine how mutant genetics change the process."

"So that's what your snot samples were," Kitty smiled, "And I know it is protein shakes or something but I forget the technical terms. You are much better at that science stuff than I am."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, I fell asleep in Dr. McCoy's Chemistry 101 class," she admitted, "If it doesn't involve a computer, I'm sort of lost."

Evelyn dropped out of the conversation. She wanted to finish things up quickly so she could get to bed. Tomorrow, she was going to have her earliest memories probed by Professor X. Maybe, just maybe, they would be able to find out where she came from.

The idea was exciting, but scary. Her father's words weighed heavily on the mind. Her past might be full of things she didn't want to think about but they wouldn't know until they tried to look. Sleep came slowly. She spent a lot of time overnight resting on her back with her eyes closed, reaching for the mindless abandon of sleep and becoming more frustrated as it evaded her grasp.

She finally collapsed into blackness. Semi-lucid, she looked around her surroundings, a field of stars. The cosmos wafted around her. She could see galaxies spiral past her and billions of stars dart past her eyes. Blue lights sank into her skin, melting to become part of her body. Suddenly, all the lights went out and she was left in an empty building. It was like an office building but without any lights or really any sort of furniture or adornment.

 _Evelyn, you need to wake up._

She looked around the dark corridors, searching for the source of the sound. It seemed omnipresent, rippling around her.

 _You will be late._

Late for what? She took off at a full tilt run through the black labyrinth of halls and carpeted rooms. Her sense of balance felt off, like the floor was made of Jell-O. She slammed into walls, knocking her way through. The world was starting to collapse around her, great chunks of shadow falling like ash.

 _Wake up. Now._

Her leg pulled and she felt herself being yanked into consciousness by her ankle. The events of her dream were fuzzy and largely forgotten. The details that lingered were mismatched and nonsensical. Her eyes finally settled on the clock. It was a quarter to eight and she had to start her mind - probing procedure at the top of the hour!

She threw on a clean pair of sweatpants and the first t-shirt she could find and raced down the hall. It was only as she skidded to a stop in front of Professor X's office that she realized her sweatpants were inside out and her shirt was on backwards. She ducked into the side bathroom quickly to adjust her clothes so it was less apparent that she just fell out of bed. When she checked herself in the mirror, she was taken somewhat aback by what she saw.

The stress of finals was starting to take a noticeable toll on her. A pimple was started to form along the side of her nose, likely triggered by stress. It was all she could do not to rub at the swollen spot, even as it painfully pressed against the cartilage of her nose. Her long hair was a mess, sticking out of her ponytail at odd angles like copper wire. She tried to fix it but it still wasn't resting as flat as she would like. Her eyes were adorned with sleepless purple. Fortunately, she was going to be sleeping for the procedure so maybe it would make up for the fact that last night could have gone better. When she stepped away from the mirror, she wished she had never looked into it to begin with. Her stomach growled, protesting a lack of breakfast, but she had been specifically instructed not to eat that morning in case she got sick during the procedure.

She pushed open the heavy oak door to the offices and froze. Nick Fury stood by Professor X's desk, eyepatch and all. Her heart pounded in her chest. If the director was here, personally, something was afoot, maybe something more than what her father disclosed to her in confidence. He turned, long black coat spinning around him like a cape.

"'Bout time you got here," he said, surveying her with his one good eye.

"I'm sorry, I overslept," explained Evelyn in a mumble.

"You're here now and we are just about ready to begin," said Professor X soothingly, "before we continue, I am obligated to ask one more time if you are comfortable going through this procedure. This is your last chance to call the whole thing off."

Suddenly, Evelyn's throat felt very dry. She tried to swallow her spit but the back of her mouth felt sandpapery. Her voice came out as a low croak.

"I'm sure."

The professor nodded and then continued. "Director Fury has filled me in on his suspicions and given me the, ah, Cliff Notes version of SHIELD's ongoing project involving superhumans. Because this project, and you personally, are directly involved, he has requested to be present."

"Where's Dad?" Evelyn almost couldn't stop the words coming out of her mouth. Her hands were starting to shake with nervousness and anticipation.

"He is being briefed by Doctor McCoy," assured Nick, "He had... safety concerns."

Yeah, that sounded like him. Evelyn would have laughed if she could manage to quash the clenching feeling in her stomach as the descended a back elevator to a sleep lab. It was an odd room. The ceiling was made up of a series of panels leaned against each other at odd angles. The walls contained several layers of soundproofing and the carpet was thick and shaggy to block outside noise. There was a small chaise waiting, surrounded by wires and technical equipment. Phil and McCoy were waiting. Evelyn walked right into the middle of the conversation.

"It's a precaution," explained Hank, "We had an incident with Jean a not long ago. So this room is designed to repel psychic influences. Nothing from outside this room will be able to get in, tangible or intangible."

"And she will be safe?" asked Phil, arms crossed as his eyes raked over the setup.

"This is the safest place she could possibly be," assured Hank. "Nothing is going to happen to Miss Evelyn."

Phil turned as she walked in. He opened his arms and she fell in. She sighed, breathing in the familiar smell of home. He was slightly woodsy with a hint of clove and pine. She grew up with that smell. And now it was exactly what she needed.

"Evey, are you ready?"

"Yeah," she said, "let's do this."

McCoy did a good job of explaining everything. The electrodes on her head were to monitor her brain waves, just in case whatever visited Jean tried to sneak into her head. A heart rate monitor was attached to her finger and a coil around her chest monitored her breathing. Both of those were simply to make sure her vitals didn't do anything too out of the ordinary. She took a pill to put her to sleep but it would take her a few minutes to slip under. Phil sat at her side, running his hands through her silky auburn locks to help her relax.

"I have some news," he whispered, "I got a response back from Midtown High."

"Yeah?" Her sweet Hazel eyes growing fuzzy.

"I haven't opened the envelope yet," he said, "I thought you would want to do it."

"Thanks," she smiled, "I'll check it out after this, okay?"

"Of course," he said, holding her hand.

"I'm surprised Clint didn't tag along," she commented.

"He's on a mission," said Phil, "or else I'm sure he would have been here."

"Where's he off to now?"

Phil glanced over to Nick and then back again. It seemed like it was okay for him to speak. "He's doing some surveillance in the Baltic. We're trying to track down some old Soviet scientists."

"He'll have fun," she assured. "He likes doing things like that."

"Like what?"

"Watching."

She was starting to slip under. Her words were slurring and her thoughts becoming unfocused. Even her grip in his hand loosened.

"I'm glad you're here, Papa," she said.

"I'm always happy to be here for you," he said, "You're my baby girl."

"I'm glad you're my Papa," she sighed, eyelids growing heavy. Phil leaned over to kiss her forehead. When he sat up, she appeared to be asleep.

He had to sit back while Hank got to work monitoring her vitals and getting her set up. It was unnerving to see his daughter with an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth and electrodes dotting her head. Phil had to keep reminding himself that nothing was wrong, she was okay. Nick noticed his nervousness and handed him a bottle of water. Phil thanked him but didn't really feel thirsty.

"Do you need to take a walk?" asked Nick.

"I don't want to leave her," said Phil, looking back over at the bed. She looked so innocent in sleep, with only the slight twitch of her eyelids as she dreamed.

Hank looked up, "Her vitals are stable. She's going to sleep for about four hours, tops. You can take a seat if you want. Relax. I'll let you know if anything happens."

Nick handed him a package of powdered Donettes and pulled out a chair for him. Phil reluctantly settled and started nibbling on the snack.

Professor X was sitting at her side, eyes closed. He was gone, off somewhere in the recesses of her mind. The room was completely, uncomfortably quiet save for the rustling of the snack wrapper and the churn of machinery.

"What are you thinking?" Asked Nick, breaking the silence.

"Just," Phil tried to piece together his words, "wondering where this is going to go. Wondering if I'm doing the right thing."

They sat there for a moment in silence before Nick spoke again. "If I can take a moment to not be Director of SHIELD and just talk to you as the dude who's known you since boot camp, it doesn't matter what you find out today. Evelyn is a smart girl. She'll get along fine no matter where she is or what she does."

Phil stared straight ahead, "I think I know that."

"Then you don't have anything to worry about."

"Who said anything about worrying? I don't worry."

Nick raised a dubious eyebrow at him but didn't deign a response to that bit of silliness. "That all being said, I do have my own responsibilities to think of, as do you. And by saying that, I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. The fact of the matter is, however, that investigating Evelyn does nothing but benefit not only her but others. If there is another poor girl in her situation, we can do something about it if we jump on this. As far as doing the right thing is concerned, we are absolutely doing the right thing. In every sense of the phrase."

"I wish I had your confidence. Or your ability to tell me what I want to hear."

"Well, I didn't get my job because I was the prettiest flower in the garden," said Nick, snagging one of the Donettes.

They sat there, eating junk food for a long few seconds. Nothing seemed to be happening to Evelyn but then again, that was a good thing. So long as the machines kept humming and the slow in-out of Evelyn's breath continued, there was nothing to be concerned about. Phil kept telling himself this. It made him feel better.

"Anything from your side of operations?" he finally asked Nick to break the silence, "As far as leads on what Evelyn could be?"

"Some. Lots of them classified."

Phil resisted the urge to roll his eyes at more of the typical Nick Fury cryptic malarky. "Okay, well then, what _can_ you tell me?"

"I'm giving you shit, Phil," said Nick, " Honestly, she could be any number of things. Russia had some crazy shit active during the Cold War. We know about the Red Guardian project. How much of _that_ don't we know?"

Phil nodded. He couldn't say he at all liked where this was going. But he wanted answers. This seemed as plausible an explanation as any.

"So, if this is even the case, who are our prime suspects?"

"Well, Russia is the obvious culprit. Everyone knows they did human experimentation back in the cold war days. China is a possibility. She could be a leftover from Hydra. Korea has been into some whacky shit over the years. Possibly Middle Eastern somewhere cooked up their own batch of super soldier juice. We don't have confirmed reports from that corner of the world but we can't rule it out just yet since it seems everyone has tried to create their own version of Cap at some point in time."

Phil raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Those are really far fetched, Nick. Remember, she still had to somehow still end up in New Mexico."

"Everyone's a suspect until otherwise noted," insisted Nick.

"But Hydra? Really? They haven't been active for decades."

Nick crossed his arms. "I'm going to continue to call them a suspect until they are completely ruled out... beyond a shadow of a doubt. Peggy Carter spent years destroying Schmidt's pet projects. Maybe she missed something."

That sentence was almost sacrilegious. Peggy Carter, the first director of SHIELD, was the most beloved of all agents, the role model everyone looked up to. The first helicarrier launched was named in her honor. The academy gymnasium had a large plaque out front dedicated to her and the Howling Commandos. There was a life sized statue of her in the memorial gardens. To say that she could possibly have missed something and allowed Hydra to linger would have caused some of the old-time agents to grasp their badges with shock keel over from a fatal heart attack. She was second only to _maybe_ Captain America in terms of influence. And even that was up for debate.

They were pulled out of the conversation when Evelyn's heart rate monitor started beeping frantically.

On the other side, in another world far away from the machine, Evelyn dreamed of snow. A fine layer of floating white particles drifted down from a pewter sky. The horizon appeared to be made up of shifting shadows, writhing and wriggling like a nest of worms. Not knowing what else to do, she walked toward a lighter portion of the horizon, faintly silver with starlight. She wasn't sure where she was. The landscape was undeniably alien to her. Did she image this or was this a part of her distant memories? She wasn't sure.

The lighter portion revealed the faded outline of a large building. There was no telling just how high it was. From her perspective, it seemed to stretch on forever. The inner chamber was adorned with rows of fiery orbs. Despite the illumination, the hall was blurry and intangible. It was like looking at a photo which was completely out of focus. Nausea swirled in her stomach as she tried to get her bearings.

After a few moments of walking, she was in a mezzanine of some sort. Things were slightly more tangible, less blurry. She could pick out thick columns lining each side of the hall. They were pale, standing like an honor guard of ghosts. She caught a whiff of fresh air swirling down the hall. There was a touch of flowers on the breeze and something soft and sweet, like honey. Birds sang somewhere far away, echoing in the massive hall.

After a moment, she became aware of a voice. One voice gave way to hundreds or thousands. A choir of voices speaking in dozens of different languages. She looked around for the crowd but couldn't see a single soul anywhere around her. She was listening to the voices of the past, of people who may not even be still alive. As suddenly as the voices appeared, they disappeared into silence.

She felt warm, soft in the silence. It was like being held by the strongest arms but also the most gentle. A lullabye wafted in one ear and out the other. She wanted to sleep, to remain in this beautiful place as long as possible. She was floating in billows of soft cottony sleep.

It was only as she floated down from this embrace that she saw something which struck fear into her heart. A tall figure, completely covered with molten gold. As he moved along the floor, the viscous liquid bubbled and swirled. He shone like the sun but his face was completely blacked out, like someone took a Sharpie and scribbled over anything distinguishable. His footfalls sounded like an earthquake. His breath sounded like a hurricane in her ears. His hands were tendrils of smoke, reaching out to ensnare her.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" she screamed.

All she could think to do was to take off into the shifting shadows as fast as she could. But it didn't seem to be any use. Everywhere she ran, he was there. It seemed like there were dozens of him, stepping from the shadows and reaching out toward her. There was nothing but boiling gold wherever she looked.

"NO! STOP! NO!"

Cold hands touched her, like frostbitten fingers reaching up from the grave. It writhed like maggots and clenched her wrists so hard she thought her arms would break. She screamed but her voice stuck in her throat. All she could do is make small choking noises and flail against the ice which encircled her.

 _Evelyn… Evelyn, you need to listen to me. None of this is real. You are in your mind._

"No… no no no no no…" she muttered, gripping at her hair and squeezing her eyes closed. The icy grip lifted her off her feet so she dangled in midair. She tried to stretch to get her feet back on solid ground but she couldn't quite reach. She didn't know how high she was off the ground and she didn't want to open her eyes to find out.

She fell, just like in her nightmares. After a while, she wasn't sure if she was still falling or not but she also feared what she would see if she opened her eyes.

 _Evelyn… Evelyn…_

She finally realized that the voice was Professor X. She peeked under her eyelashes. The professor did not appear to be physically there but she also wasn't falling anymore. Instead, she felt like she was hovering. The air was neither cold nor warm, the space neither bright nor dark. It was truly a void of nothingness.

 _You're safe here. He's gone._

"Are you sure?"

 _Absolutely. You can stay here and sleep as long as you need._

"And the gold man won't be here?"

 _He is only a nightmare, Evelyn. You have nothing to fear._

She found herself relaxing, just a little bit. It was enough that she could relish in the emptiness and turn off the last firing thoughts so she could sleep properly in safety and solitude. Xavier opened his eyes and looked up. Phil was kneeling at his daughter's side, watching the bank of machines like a hawk. He clasped Evelyn's hand in his own.

"She's fine," he said, his voice pulling Phil from his thoughts. "She will sleep an hour or so longer but for now, I have retrieved all the information I possibly can from her."

Phil's blue eyes were sharp, "What happened?"

Xavier glanced over at Hank for an explanation. "Her heart rate jumped," he clarified, "About two minutes ago. Nothing critical but it did seem unprovoked."

"Ah," said Xavier, "She has stumbled upon something distressing in her past, in her earliest memories. I will explain more in the debrief. The good news is, she is unharmed from her encounter. We shall see how much she can recall of her ordeal when she awakes. For now, let us leave her in peace. Doctor McCoy will monitor her until she awakes."

Phil was uneasy leaving Evelyn alone, particularly knowing she was in distress. But he felt he had no choice and followed the professor and Nick back into the main school building. In a way, it was a relief to be back at ground level and breathing fresh air, as opposed to the recycled, stale aroma of the basement. Light streamed in through the large picture windows, almost blinding them with the brilliance.

"So, what have we found?" asked Nick.

Xavier picked up a stack of paper from his office printer and handed it to the director, "These are my notes and observations during the time."

"How?" asked Phil.

"We had to develop technology to record psychic data," explained Xavier, "Took us almost twenty years to make it perfect. But you'll find all the things I observed in your daughter's mind in that report."

Nick sat off to the side to give it a read but Phil still had questions. "What had her so upset?"

"I did not intend to alarm her," explained Xavier as he turned his chair back toward Phil, "I did not know, but it is obviously a sensitive subject for her. But as her father, you need to know so you can tell her when she is ready."

Phil was not entirely knowing what to make of this and somewhat dreading what he was about to hear. Xavier sighed and turned back to look from the balcony across the grounds where the students were milling about.

"When I entered her memories and tried to go back as far as she had recollection, there were some blurry images. These were places she has been but not for so long as for them to be ingrained in her recollection."

The words didn't quite make sense and Phil said as much. Xavier smiled wryly and turned his chair back again.

"Forgive me, I tend to speak as though I'm talking to scientists. It is a side effect of the job here," he said, resting back into the chair, "Allow me to clarify. Memories are not stored in neat little filing cabinets. I can't just go looking through her mental files and find what I am looking for. Memory is more like an ingraining process. When you see the same thing time and time again, you can remember more of the details about it.

"There are places that Evelyn has been when she was very young that left a very faint impression on her. I wasn't able to pick out very many details because she has only been there a few times or only for brief periods of time. This is possibly the place she originally came from. Unfortunately, there isn't enough detail to pick out where that might be. I could distinguish snow and some large buildings and a bit of architecture but it was also distorted, observed through the eyes of a child. I'm afraid pinpointing the exact location may be difficult, if not impossible."

"So what had her upset?"

"She was taken... I would guess within a few months after being born."

"Taken?" said Phil in alarm, "Evey was taken?"

"Quite possibly," replied Xavier with a dark sigh, "Interestingly, she seemed familiar with her abductor. She called him the 'gold man.' Does that name at all ring a bell?"

"Yes," said Phil in surprise, "She would have nightmares about him when she was a kid. I always wondered if maybe there was an explanation for her nightmares."

"You see now why I wanted to discuss this with you first. I did not want to alarm her by saying that her nightmares are at least based on fact. She will have to know eventually but I was under the impression that now was not timely. It would alarm her."

"Y-yeah," stammered Phil, "I'd say it would. What can we do to find the gold man? Who is he?"

Xavier started to maneuver his chair back to the office, "I'm afraid the printouts of the investigation aren't going to be of much use. The memory is tainted with time."

"Tainted?"

"Yes," clarified Xavier, "You recall how I said that memory was an engraving process? Well, the engraving also occurs with recollection. As we recall our memories, we also influence how they are recorded. Evelyn is blessed with a vivid imagination but it also impedes with the recollection of the gold man. The image has been altered by her recollection of it."

Nick handed the manila folder over to Phil so he could start to flip through it. Xavier smiled softly, hopefully, "I hope what will assist you in your investigation. I know she is strongly considering attending another school. We will miss her here but I believe she will have a shining future regardless of where she ends up."

The folder was heavy between his hands. Evelyn had a lot of memories that he was going to have to sift through if he was going to find answers about where his little girl came from.

"Thank you," he said, "For being so… wonderful to Evey and helping her as much as you have. It's been… indispensable. I honestly don't know what we would have done without your help."

"It is what we are here for," said Xavier, "We're always here for her."

Phil sat downstairs to keep an eye on his daughter as she woke up and read through the file. Nick was already on his way back to HQ. As Xavier stated earlier, it was vague. But there were enough circumstantial clues that he felt confident they could start crossing names off the list of suspects. He was in the process of doing so when he heard a faint rustle from over at the bed.

"Hello?"

"Evelyn," he put his notes off to the side and walked over to her bed, "How are you feeling?"

"Sleepy," she said, rubbing her eyes, "But okay."

He smiled at her, running a hand through her hair, "Do you remember anything?"

Her eyebrows knit together as she tried to think, "No. Not really. Hank put the breathing mask on me and then I fell asleep."

After a few moments, Evelyn felt sturdy enough to stand on her own two feet and take the elevator back up to the main office. Xavier had water bottles waiting for her and a bit of food, as she hadn't eaten since the day before. She devoured the bagels and peanut butter with a ravenous appetite.

"Who is the gold man?" asked Xavier softly over his tented fingers. The simple words made the hair on her arms stand up and the back of her neck feel incredibly cold.

"I-I don't know. I've had nightmares about him since I was a kid but I don't know anything else," stuttered Evelyn, "H-he's not real."

"Tell me more."

Evelyn squirmed in her seat, trying to discreetly wipe some of the sweat off her palms, "It's usually the same dream. I'm just going about my day and then he grabs me, picks me up and throws me. And I keep falling and falling and falling... but then I usually wake up before I hit the ground."

"Does he say anything?"

"No."

"Does he seem to smile or laugh at any point?"

"I don't think so. It doesn't look like he is enjoying himself. He just looks... scary. I don't know how else to say it."

"Have you ever seen anyone resembling him in real life?"

"No," she said slowly, "I think I would definitely recognize him in a crowd. He stands out. Did I dream about him while I was out?"

Xavier and Phil exchanged a look. Phil was finally the one to speak up, "Yes, you did, honey. But he's not going to hurt you."

"I know," she said, licking peanut butter off her fingers, "I know he's not real."

Phil decided not to voice his doubts just yet. She had been through a lot. Maybe someday when they knew the truth, he would be able to explain it to her properly, with concrete evidence. Until then, it was all just a nightmare and nothing to be scared of. She snarfed down a fifth bagel with barely an inhale between bites. Phil felt an envelope burning a hole in his pocket. He slid it across the table to her.

"This is for you. It came yesterday."

She paused and slid open the envelope. It was addressed to her and the return address was for a location in Manhattan. She held her breath. If this was what she thought it was, this day was either going to be disappointing or exciting.

"Congratulations, Miss Evelyn Carlton," she read aloud, "You have been accepted into the Midtown High School for Math, Science and Engineering."

"Honey! I'm so proud of you!" he reached over to hug her. Evelyn returned his embrace but she was silent for a long moment. Her hug was slightly listless. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" she said, cracking a stiff smile, "I wasn't expecting to hear back so soon and I'm a little tired right now. It's… not quite sinking in just yet."

Phil nodded. "I understand. But, still, this is a great thing. Midtown is a good school."

"Yeah," she said, "But I'll be the new kid. And… I'll miss everyone here. I'll also have to hide my powers."

"All of us who leave here have to do that," said Xavier, "You are fortunate your abilities do not alter your external appearance. It will make your task easier."

Evelyn's mind flashed to Kurt and she instantly knew what the professor was saying. She at least had opportunity, whereas someone like him might not. All the same, the bagel started to feel like chunks of lead in the pit of her stomach.

"Also," interjected Xavier, "You are welcome to return at any time to visit. I'm sure Miss Pryde will be eager to see you again."

She hated having to leave Kitty. The two of them became best friends and she couldn't be happier to have a real friend that she didn't have to hide anything from. Part of her wished that she could take her friend with her. It was going to be so difficult to make new friends at a new school and having just one person to hang out with and talk to would be a big help.

Kitty returned to the dorm room after classes and Evelyn showed her the acceptance letter. Kitty read it through once and then again. It took a minute for the realization to sink in.

"You're really leaving?"

"Yeah," said Evelyn softly, "I'm done with Middle School and already starting high school classes here but maxed out on science. It's a good school and I can learn more about science and stuff there. And it's good for my career and stuff."

"I'm gonna need to find a new roommate," she whispered, "But… but I don't wanna because I liked being your roommate."

Evelyn reached over to hug her. There had been a lot of hugs today, a lot of emotional moments. Her shoulder grew a little bit wet from Kitty's tears.

"Kitty?" she said.

"You're my best friend!"

"You're mine too," added Evelyn. She was getting a bit teary-eyed as well. "Look, I don't want to stop being friends just because you're not going to the same school as me. I'm completely freaked out, okay? I'm worried I'm not going to have any friends, and certainly not friends I can be honest with. I mean, I can't tell anyone about my powers because they might not get it. Not like you."

Kitty was quiet for a minute and they just cried into each other's shoulders for a long time, several minutes. Eventually Evelyn couldn't find tears. Kitty seemed to be winding down too. They fell back onto the lower bunk and stared up at the ceiling.

"Are you going to be living with your dad again?"

"Yeah," muttered Evelyn, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, "We live just across the river. A bus goes right over to the school. Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll be able to get a car in the next year or so."

"That'd be cool. You could drive up here to visit. Or, you know, I could go down there. I've only been to New York City once."

"You should. We could have fun on the town. The place is beautiful at Christmas."

"It's not fair that you get to go home for Christmas."

"You're not going home for Christmas?"said Evelyn in surprise.

"Mom and Dad moved to a smaller home. There isn't a place for me unless I want to crash on an air mattress. Which, you know, I will if I have nothing else. But we also don't do a lot for the holidays so it would be really boring."

"If you want to, you can stay with me and my dad," offered Evelyn, "And also Clint. He usually spends time with us since he doesn't have family to go home to. The more the merrier, you know."

Kitty's eyes welled up a little bit as she dove in to hug her friend again, "Oh, thank you."

"Give me a call when you're coming over, so I can make sure the spare bed has clean sheets."

"Aw, I can't just show up in your kitchen one day?"

"I would prefer you didn't, because then I can't promise clean sheets."

"I promise I'll call, then."

It took a few more weeks to finalize the paperwork and complete her schoolwork. Phil assisted her with registering for classes at Midtown and soon word spread to her classmates that she would be leaving. She received various questions, presents, and words of advice such as remembering to think three steps ahead from Rogue. It dawned on her that in the last week she hadn't seen Hank. She found him in the lab, entering in findings from a project.

"So I hear you are leaving us for Midtown High."

"Yeah, thanks to you."

"My recommendation only helped, you did most of the work."

She pulled out a thank you card, "I wanted to thank you. Without your guidance I wouldn't have realized how I could apply myself. I wouldn't have pushed myself to learn as much as I have."

He looked at her with warm eyes. "Thank you, my dear. You will do great things. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

"I'll be in touch," she assured.

Goodbyes were bittersweet. She had gotten so used to being in the stately school with the oak paneled walls and the ornate "Addams Family" furniture that going to a regular school with regular desks and regular classrooms could be a bit dry and boring in comparison. But then she was going to be learning more math and science and simulations class was gone forever so it couldn't be all bad.

It didn't take long for her to load all of her dorm room into Lola. Part of her wished it would take longer so she could loiter around the school and say a proper goodbye. But eventually the time came to leave.

"Are you ready to go?" asked Phil as he put an arm around his girl.

"I think so."

Phil opened the door to Lola and Evelyn took one final look at the colorful array of mutants she had come to call friends. Kitty was still crying horribly. Peter, Kurt, and Bobby waved from the door. Rogue blew a kiss, her gloved hand entwined with Remy's. Scott and Jean were waving a little bit as well but it was a lot more strained… especially from Scott. Jean seemed almost wistful, if Evelyn's eyes weren't deceiving her.

Perhaps, maybe, she wished she could have been better friends with Jean. Maybe they could have been close. Who knew, in the end? Beast and Professor X were in the front of the stairs. Beast waved a big paw. Professor X just nodded slightly. Evelyn could have swore up and down that she heard his voice bidding her farewell in the back of her head.

Evelyn stepped into the car, waving goodbye to Kitty and the others. It wouldn't be the end, she knew, but goodbyes were always bittersweet and nostalgic. They were soft and fluffy around the edges. The images would remain frozen, much like a photograph, but also with a blur around the sides as time went on.

"Papa," she asked turning down the swing music, "Is it possible that I can go back and visit once more before I started school?"

"Oh, I'm sure," smiled Phil, "We'll find a weekend and get you up here to see everyone."

"That's good."

Phil looked over at her, "You know, that was a great thing you did for Kitty in offering her a place to go for Christmas."

"I hope you don't mind."

"I don't," said Phil, "You know our place has always been a place for folks to crash. I'll be sure to make sure the Christmas ham is cooked to perfection."

"Dad, we have never cooked a full Christmas dinner… ever."

"It will be the sort of ham that comes between two buns with cheese from McDonalds."

"That's more like it…"

The next day Phil went to work as usual while Evelyn enjoyed the start of her summer break. Maria curious to see how Phil was handling the transition stopped by to visit him on their coffee break. She found him elbow deep in old files. Several boxes from the archives littered his usually neat and organized office. The lingering scent of mildew and old paper hung in the air like an old strip of flypaper. She leafed through some of the briefings. Portions of it were redacted since the information was not yet ready to release to the public record but she knew enough bits and pieces to fill in some of the gaps.

"Do you want to help?" asked Phil over a coffee-stained manilla envelope.

"Nope, but I will anyway," replied Maria, grabbing one of the closest boxes. This one was labeled "Kree Empire."

"I was thinking the gold man could be The Hand or a splinter of Hydra," muttered Phil, running through the files on all their known adversaries, "They both had variations on yellow or gold colored uniforms at some point in time."

"What about Vector or one of the other U-Foes?" asked Maria, "Could it be one of them?"

"I thought of that, but no," said Phil, pausing to sip a cup of coffee, "I contacted Richards briefly and he said the timelines don't match up. They were dodging extradition laws by hiding out in Latveria under Doom's wing during that time. If they were dropping something off, they wouldn't be able to do it in New Mexico without going incredibly out of their way."

Maria shrugged a shoulder, "I took the liberty of checking in with our Russian haven't heard of any experiments in Russian organizations involving a 'gold man.' Also, there hasn't been any projects involving energy transference to their knowledge."

"Could be that is wasn't government sanctioned?"

"It's a possibility, I suppose. But it would take some massive balls to do a massive energy project right under the nose of the Soviets and not invite them to the party."

"What about something deep cover? Like MKULTRA deep?"

"Again, it's possible. We didn't know about the Red Guardian project until two years ago. This could be part of that or something similar. It's hard to tell but, again, they had to somehow get her all the way over to New Mexico. That is going to rule out a lot of possible leads."

"I guess," sighed Phil, "Well, I have a short list of possible culprits. Maybe this will net something."

He sent the list over to Maria. Her response was generally unimpressed, except for one or two eyebrow-raising suggestions. After a moment or two, she looked back up.

"You're forgetting one very big thing."

"What's that?"

Maria took a deep breath before speaking, "There is the possibility that Evelyn is... not of this world."

"What? She's an alien?" Phil looked at her as if she were crazy.

"Could be," said Maria, "You did find her after a monster of an energy storm. We still don't really know what that was about. It could be that she was dumped here by some kind of ship."

"We ran genetic tests at Xavier's," countered Phil, "Her genetic sequencing is almost the same as a human's. So, she's not Kree."

"And a chimpanzee's DNA is almost like a human's but that doesn't mean that we're exactly the same thing," noted Maria. She pulled out the file from the Kree box and pulled out a trascript she had just glossed over, "And during initial interviews at least, Mar-vell had made reference to there being other civilizations out there. She could be one of any of them."

"But he also said," Phil reached over to the box and started digging through the dusty files, "In later interviews that humans and Kree shared the most physical attributes. Between that testimony and the DNA testing at Xavier's, I think the chances of her being an alien is slim. There would be more signs."

"And being able to channel energy isn't...," Maria suddenly stopped what she was doing and sighed, holding her hands aloft in defeat, "Okay, whatever. You can't say it isn't a possibility, however remote. You should look into it. At least to take it off the list."

"Fine," grumbled Phil, "I will also try to rule out leprechauns, fairies, and mermaids."

Maria glared at him, "Smart ass."


	22. pt 2 Ch 10: Back to School

It was good to be home. A little weird, but good. Phil was happy to have his daughter under the same roof again. It was a joy to wake up in the morning and see Evelyn in the kitchen in the mornings making breakfast. He made it a point to give her a big hug every time he saw her.

"Gosh, Papa," she smiled, "It's like you missed me or something."

"I did," he said, reaching around to grab the box of Cheerios and planting a kiss on her cheek as he passed. "Everyday."

"Aw," she smiled, scooting the carton of milk over to where he was sitting. The front door opened and heavy boots scuffed along the entryway to the apartment. She didn't have to turn to recognize them.

"Evey!" Clint smiled, racing up to hug her. "Evey! Evey! You're back!"

He was wearing a gray t-shirt with the SHIELD insignia on the shoulder under a black jacket with his last name embroidered on the front. His pants were a rough, black material that tucked into his combat boots in an almost professional manner. For all intents and purposes, he looked like a real agent. It was a far cry from the goofy kid her father dragged in.

"You need to come into work today," he said, walking right over to the coffee machine and helping himself. Phil held up a Captain America mug so Clint could fill it up. He stirred in his usual mix of one sugar cube and a dollop of half-and-half.

"Oh, why?" asked Evelyn.

Clint grinned over at Phil, "We found a girl on the last mission and I want you to meet her."

Evelyn blinked. This sounded familiar. "Like, a baby girl?"

"No, no," insisted Clint, "She's older, like our age. I didn't get myself a cactus baby."

Phil rolled his eye at the term. You would have figured after roughly sixteen years, 'cactus baby' would have died out. Instead, Nick's little colloquialism had been passed on to the next generation! At this point, it was never going to end.

"You need to meet her," insisted Clint, his soft grey eyes shimmering with excitement, "She's an ice cube in a shot of Russian vodka. _Gorgeous_!"

Evelyn held in a laugh, "Oh wow..."

"The problem is that I'm not sure she understands English. I think she probably does but she pretends she doesn't. But I don't know, she just yells at me in Russian or something every time I try and talk to her."

"Where did you find her?"

"Ukraine," he said, "She was working with this sort of former Soviet splinter group… thing. I was supposed to kill her."

"You were supposed to kill her and then you recruit her to SHIELD? Why don't they send you out to high schools to bring in new recruits?"

Phil laughed but Clint wasn't quite finding the humor of it. "I wish Nick had your sense of humor. I got the chewing out of my life from him for deliberately disobeying a direct order and not shooting her."

"So why didn't you?" she asked. Clint stammered for a second and then feigned nonchalance.

"Dunno. She was hot."

"I don't believe you," she said, sipping her coffee.

He shifted from foot to foot for a moment, "I… I don't know. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I don't really know why. Gut feeling, I guess."

There was something there he wasn't talking about but Evelyn didn't press. "So… she's cooperating and everything?"

"I think so. I don't speak Russian so I don't know for sure but Commander Hill says she's more than willing to help. But she also worries that the girl is a spy and going to stab us in the back as soon as we get complacent. I don't know what the deal is. I guess we'll find out."

"Are you sure it is smart to do the 'wait and see' approach for this?"

"Probably not," admitted Clint, "It might be stupid. It might be the stupidest thing I've ever done."

"Might be? I would say it is," replied Evelyn.

"Can you just meet her? Look, she needs friends. If she has friends, maybe she won't stab us in the back."

"Okay. Okay…" said Evelyn carefully, "I'll say 'Hi.' Don't get your shorts in a bunch."

"Thanks."

"And you are so totally crushing on her…"

"Shut up!"

He didn't deny it. So, she was fairly certain that she hit upon something. Evelyn chuckled a little bit as Clint marinaded in his own sweat for a few seconds."So, does the shot of Russian vodka have a name or did you make one up?"

"Natasha," replied Clint dreamily with a goofy smile on his face.

Natasha's hair was impossibly dark red, the color of Valentine's roses. It curled in pretty ringlets around her sculpted face. She was cold-colored, with skin pale enough to see the tiny networks of veins along her arms and eyelids. Shadows, the color of fresh bruises, hollowed her face. Only the faintest tint of blood trickled under her pale lips. Her skin stretched tight over her frame so that her elbows and collarbones protruded. Sapphire eyes rested in purpled sockets, dark with sleeplessness and a lingering sadness. She had a small frame but she appeared wan from malnutrition and exhaustion. That much was obvious from her sunken cheeks and the way her hipbones and ribs jutted out. Evelyn wanted to give her a whole bag of Halloween candy to eat so she might fill out her frame.

"Is she okay?" asked Evelyn in alarm when Clint pointed her out in the commissary. "She looks like something Tim Burton created."

Clint held in a chuckle. "The docs said she's fine. She just needs to eat and get some sleep and stuff. They think she might have been locked up for a while."

"That's awful!"

"Yeah," he said, "I guess she's doing better. She's been eating. I don't know really sure sure since she doesn't talk to me."

She had a tray of food in hand and walked through the crowd. Her footsteps had a dance-like lit to it, slinking like a cat among the bustle of agents in the eating area. Sharp eyes scanned the crowd, analytical and assessing every detail. She looked like a skittish animal, ready to show her claws as soon as someone broke the norm.

"Natasha," called Clint, waving for her to come and sit with them. She hesitated for a moment, then walked over to them. "Natasha, this is my friend. This is Evelyn."

The other girl didn't say anything right away. Her eyes raked up and down her body, taking in every detail. She observed Evelyn as acutely as Evelyn observed her. Finally, she muttered something but her voice was lost among the hubbub of the cafeteria. She sat down next to Clint but kept a good foot of space on the bench between them.

"Nice to meet you," said Evelyn politely.

Her lunch was made up of a cup of chicken noodle soup, half a caesar salad, and a sandwich wrapped in plastic wrap. She had a carton of skim milk. Evelyn couldn't help but think that Natasha could stand to drink two percent. At least she was eating.

Clint tried to promote a conversation between the two of them but Natasha only gave him one-word answers: a simple yes or no. Anything more complicated and she would simply refuse to talk or give a halfhearted shrug as a response. It led to a stunted conversation.

After lunch, Clint invited them up to his apartment for movies. Evelyn tagged along and it looked like Natasha was following him too. Not that she minded. Maybe if they spent some time together, she would start to open up. It was worth a shot. And, furthermore, Clint wouldn't complain about spending some time with her.

It was the first time she had ever been to his apartment and there wasn't much to miss. The base's housing was simple and his furnishings were sparse, with lots of cream-colored bare walls. He had a sofa that he bought off of another agent and a beanbag chair that was picked up from a thrift shop. Both had seen better days. The kitchen was mostly stocked with easy-to-prepare meals: microwave popcorn and ramen cups. How he and his brother survived on their own for all that time was anyone's guess. He couldn't cook anything unless there were instructions on the box it came in.

He did have a small TV and a fully stocked movie library which he started back in his circus days. He had a mix of VHS, a few DVDs, and a few boxes from the local Blockbuster. His tastes were varied but leaned toward action and adventure. He pretended that Titanic didn't get him a little misty eyed but Evelyn knew better.

"You're teaching her English by watching movies?" asked Evelyn looking at the stack of DVDs sitting on the floor between them.

"Well, yeah, there is nothing that crosses the language barriers quite like action movies with lots of explosions."

"What all have you watched?"

"Uh… Robocop, Lethal Weapon, Rambo, Butch Cassidy. You know, a lot of classics."

Evelyn's eyes flicked over to where Natasha was staring at the screen. They were watching Die Hard now. Pulp Fiction, Kill Bill, and Terminator were also in the pile of movies.

"Are you sure these are the kind of movies that she wants to watch?"

"She seems to be enjoying it. She hasn't really spoken at all so far. Mostly she just watches the movie and the points to the one she wants to watch next."

"How is she learning English from this?"

"French subtitles," said Clint as he pointed at the screen, "I figured out that she knows French. I'm hoping that maybe she can make the connection between the two languages. If that is the case, she should know English fairly well by the time we finish up my Tarantino collection."

"Yeah, she will know every dirty word in the English language."

"Well, she's going to have to learn them eventually," shrugged Clint, offering a chip bag to her, "Doritos?"

She took one and then another. By the time the movie finished, her and Clint had polished off the entire bag and then started in on a bowl of microwave popcorn. Evelyn kept on offering the bowl to Natasha. She took a few pieces, ate in silence, and remained focused almost religiously on the screen as the adventure of John McClain played out before them. The day was saved, the hero got the girl, and Christmas music played them out.

"Good movie," said Natasha as she started flipping through the rest of the pile to pinpoint the next one to watch.

"Right?" smiled Clint, "You don't get any better than Die Hard. It really is the best."

"I can see why."

"What do you want to watch next?" asked Clint as he watched her go through the boxes, "We have barely scratched the surface of my Stallone collection and I don't think you have seen any Schwarzenegger. I think if you liked Die Hard you would probably like..."

He paused for a long second as realization began to dawn on him. Evelyn did her best to keep her mouth shut as the light bulb above his head slowly flickered on, "Wait... you speak English?"

She looked up at him, thin eyebrows raised with amusement. Evelyn snorted back a chuckle. Clint looked from her to Natasha and back again, " _YOU FUCKING SPEAK ENGLISH_?"

"Yippe-ki-yay, motherfucker!"

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't want to talk."

"But I've been talking to you this whole time, like a... moron."

She shrugged, "You can find out a lot about a person by what they say when they think nobody is listening."

Clint blinked and then swallowed nervously. He looked like the kid at the spelling bee asked to spell a word way beyond his comprehension, wondering if he passed the test. Natasha didn't indicate her opinion, and her face was as placid as ever.

"I think I want to watch this one," she held up Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

"Yes," blurted Evelyn, "A million times yes! But you should start with Raiders of the Lost Ark. You gotta experience the whole thing."

"You don't have to watch them in order," insisted Clint. Evelyn glared at him and crossed her arms. He crumbled, "Fine. Indiana Jones marathon it is."

Natasha stayed with him even after Evelyn left to go home with her father. For the next several weeks, Clint served as equal parts guard dog and a puppy dog where Natasha was concerned. For the most part, Natasha didn't seem to mind her talkative shadow. She played along with Clint's attempts to show her around and introduce her to American treasures: The 4th of July, the Big Mac, and rock music.

The color gradually returned to her face. She looked less like an ice sculpture and more like a flesh and blood human. But her hands were almost always cold and sleepless shadows clung to her skull. Her skinny limbs began to gain muscle from use of the training room and exercise machines but she remained largely skeletal.

Evelyn started joining her in the training room, using the treadmill while Natasha did her own thing. Clint watched, they both knew Clint was watching them from his usual perch on the upper rafters. He was probably assigned to keep an eye on her, reasoned Evelyn, and wanted to be as discreet as possible. That wasn't to say he didn't enjoy this. Fury probably didn't have to twist his arm at all to get him to agree to the task. And so they fell into a routine.

Natasha appeared to enjoy flexibility training to weight training, only doing just as much of the latter as was absolutely required of her. Pilates seemed to be her favorite workout. Evelyn joined in and was pleased to find it made for a suitable workout, using the strength of the muscles to build other muscles. It was relaxing, but Evelyn didn't think she was all that good at it.

One day, Evelyn walked into the training room and saw Natasha standing in front of the bank of mirrors in the training room. Typically the mirrors were for classes, so students could examine their technique while learning combat. Natasha, however, was just staring into her reflection, hand outstretched and fingers pressed against the glass. Evelyn hung back, wondering if she walked in on something.

Natasha examined her own face, her haunted eyes to her sharp knees. Slowly, she closed her eyes and stood on her tip-toes. She rose and rose until her body was completely supported by the very tips of her toes. En pointe, she removed her hand from the glass and rose them above her head before settling back onto her flat feet. Thus began a small dance, spinning and stretching like a ballerina. Her arms swept around her like wings, fingers bent and pointed deliberately but delicately. There was strength in her jumps and grace in her landings. When feet met with earth once again, there was only the slightest tap echoing around the empty room. Red hair swirled and flickered like a wildfire, curls falling like a blanket of maple leaves as she floated in the air. She danced to music only she could hear.

Evelyn glanced up toward the rafters and saw a faint tuft of blond hair and the outlines of boots among the shadows. Clint was watching, as he always did. Somehow it felt intrusive, like they were looking into a part of her soul. But in the silence there was peace, and in the silence there was freedom.

Her dance came to an end, and Natasha folded herself into a ball on the ground. She stayed there for a long time. Confused, Evelyn turned to leave and let her have her privacy, until she heard something. There was a sharp intake of breath, almost inaudible if not for the piercing silence. Turning around, Evelyn saw Natasha's bony shoulders shaking. For a moment, she was torn between giving her privacy and rushing to help her. Finally, she raced to the girl's side.

"Natasha?" she said, kneeling down next to her, "Do you need help?"

She muttered something, probably in Russian, but it was too low and gutteral to hear properly. She was clutching her knees to her chest, as though she was trying to fold herself into a ball and vanish into nothingness. It was hard to see properly but tears flooded her deep blue eyes and stuck to her thick, dark lashes. Her pale face was uncharacteristically ruddy with emotion and exertion.

"Hey," she whispered, running her hands through Natasha's hair, "It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be fine."

She heard boots clattering down the stairs and storming into the room. Clint stood in the doorway, having raced down from his perch. Concern blanketed his face.

"Natasha? Evey?" he raced over to them, "Natasha, are you hurt?"

"No," she said softly, "No. No. No."

She was tense, drawn up tightly into a ball. Even though Evelyn tried to help her recover, she was still tense. It took a while but eventually Clint scooped her up in his arms and carried her to her bunk.

"She's asleep now," said Clint. "I'll check on her in a bit."

"What was that about do you think?" Asked Evelyn. "Flashbacks maybe or trauma?"

"Either. Both, maybe. Agent Hill's in control of the Red Room files. Maybe we can ask her to open them?"

Evelyn's lip turned up a bit, pausing as she formulated an idea. Clint's eyebrows flew up in alarm. "Oh, I don't like that look. That's the sort of look that means I'm going to get in trouble."

"No, I'm just thinking I can go and take a quick peek at the file... just to see."

Clint raised his eyebrows dubiously in return, "You're gonna go all super spy on me?"

"No, dummy," she laughed, "I was going to ask Maria... or Dad. One or the other of them will tell me."

Clint sighed, "You had me worried."

"Why? Because I would out super-spy you? Would that hurt your ego?"

"No," he insisted a bit too quickly, "I wouldn't want you to get in trouble is all. I'd get stuck here all by myself and go stir crazy."

Evelyn's smile faded a bit, "I start school at Midtown tomorrow. So, you're gonna be left here by yourself anyway."

Clint tilted his head to study her. "How are you feeling about it?"

"Honestly," she sighed, "Scared. I don't know anyone there."

"Eh," Clint smiled, "You'll do fine. You make friends wherever you go."

"Not like you."

Clint laughed shakily, his voice wobbling like a pubescent. "Nah. I mean, I don't think Natasha likes me that much."

"Well, she doesn't talk much to anyone. I wouldn't take it personally. She'll open up when she's ready."

"It better be soon. Fury wants her to be my wing... my, uh, backup."

"Wow," Evelyn smiled, "You've been here less than five years and you have a partner? She's been here less than three months and she has a partner. What does Fury see in you two? What's he planning?"

"Maybe nothing," shrugged Clint.

"Is it ever nothing with Fury?"

"Okay, fair enough," admitted Clint, "but what would he be planning? An archer, a Russian spy... what can we do?"

Evelyn didn't have an answer. Fury's mind was an enigma even in the best of times. Now it was just even more confusing. But she didn't have time to think on it. School was about to start.

Midtown High School was noted for its schools of Math, Science and Engineering. Most students there were of some means or received financial support from independent scholarships. The school had a very limited number of full ride scholarships available for students. Evelyn was one of three.

Evelyn stood at the doorway to her first period biology class. Her heart pounded as she pressed the school textbook against her chest. Her backpack felt terribly heavy as she read over the classroom number once more to make sure she was in the right place. It was. There was no more stalling. The school bell would ring soon and her first day in regular classes would begin.

The classroom itself was average, normal. There were anatomy posters on the wall, labelling the different bodily systems. A full sized human skeleton hung at the front of the class with a red-plumed pirate hat perched jauntily on his cranium. He leaned against the big, heavy, wooden teacher's desk. The whiteboard behind the desk had dates scrawled in red marker and the teacher's name: Mr. Dunn.

Every seat at the tall lab tables seemed to be occupied as Evelyn surveyed the classroom. She felt increasingly blocked in, lost, trapped, wandering like a rat in a maze. The school had already split into cliques, students who knew each other from years past sticking together into little familiar bundles. It wasn't really a problem, per se, but it made it difficult to find a place if you were the new kid. It was especially true if you were not part of the Manhattan social circuit. Being the plebeian kid in on a full ride, she was a bit of an oddity: a penguin in a flock of flamingoes. She finally turned and saw the last, remaining seat to be filled. There was a boy on the other side of the desk.

He was sort of geeky-looking, gangly, with fluffy dark hair and thick glasses hiding deep brown eyes. But he had a Captain America t-shirt so she thought he was a good option for a lab partner. He was sitting alone at the front side of the classroom. But he seemed alone as well. Some part of her almost took pity on him, thought he needed a friend to sit with. Bravely, she strode forward to the open seat.

"Hi," said Evelyn softly, "Is, uh, is this seat taken?"

"No," the boy pushed his glasses up his nose, "No, this seat has never been taken."

Evelyn tossed her leather book bag onto the desk and began rummaging through for a mechanical pencil before she remembered her manners, "I'm Evelyn, by the way."

"Matt," he said quietly, "Are you new?"

"I just transferred," she explained, pulling out the heavy biology textbook.

"From where?"

"Private school, up north," Evelyn pointed vaguely, "Today's my first day. Is there anything I need to know?"

"Uh," he rubbed the back of his neck, "No, not really, I guess. It's school."

"Really? Nothing that is a need-to-know fact?"

"Uh, well," he looked away, cheeks turning a bit pink, "We have French-bread pizza on Thursdays."

"Okay," smiled Evelyn, propping her head against her hand, "Go on."

She didn't get to go on because the teacher introduced himself and the class began. It was typical first-day lecture, going over what they were going to learn during the year: protein, enzymes, body systems. Evelyn smiled remembering Dr. McCoy's lectures and pushed away her feelings of missing the X-Men. She would see them again but right now, she needed to focus on her classes. Fortunately, it turned out that she shared all of her morning classes with Matt. And when they compared class schedules, she had another class this semester with him. It was nice to have someone who was alright with her tagging along. By the time the lunch bell rang, she was actually quite hungry.

"I usually eat lunch in the library," explained Matt as they climbed downstairs to get to the front door of the stacks, "I like being able to get some homework done."

"Do you mind if I join you?"

Matt blinked a few times."You can... if you want to," he said nervously, "I mean, there aren't many people there. It's really quiet and boring."

"It's fine," she said, "I have a lot to catch up on, being the new kid and all. I could use some help getting things organized."

"Well," he glanced around, as though wondering if this was all a joke and he expected the other shoe to drop. "If you want to, I can help."

"Thank you," she smiled and they pushed open the oak doors to the main stacks.


	23. Pt 2 Ch 11: Christmas at the Coulsons

Sparring was vital for training in SHIELD. It wasn't out of the question for agents to get stuck in a one-on-one confrontation and be forced to fight their way to freedom. In a case of "him or me," it was necessary to be able to make snap decisions and be able to adapt to the situation and escape without injury.

But it was also something of a pastime among the agents. It wasn't unusual for bets to be placed on who would win in the day's sparring matches. While the higher-ups did not officially condone the practice, they did nothing to discourage it either. Rumor was that Fury himself placed a few bets. In fact, there was a long-time SHIELD legend of a match between him and Coulson back when they were new recruits. Everybody had a different version of how the fight ended. The truth remained elusive and neither party involved was talking. Phil wouldn't even give a straight answer to his daughter. He would wave a hand vaguely and tell her it wasn't important.

It had been quite some time since a match quite as epic as that one. But agents still sparred for practice and for recreation. After weeks of training, Clint finally felt confident in sparring with Natasha to track her progress in the program.

Short answer: Progress was good.

When Evelyn walked in after school, Clint was holding his own but only just barely. She finally kicked his legs out from under him. With a shout, Clint's legs flew up in the air and his back hit the mat with a muffled thud. He grunted as all the air rushed out of his lungs. Before he could inhale and make his next move, Natasha was on top of him, her knee pinned against his chest and her left hand wrenching his knife hand backward into a contorted twist while her dominant arm pinned his shoulder down and pressed the knife up against his throat. He coughed once, trying to get his bearings.

"Thanks for that," he managed to choke out, struggling uselessly against her arms. She was much stronger than she looked. His bid to free himself resulted in a lot of impotent flailing. "Usually when I'm pinned down with a woman on top of me, the circumstances are a bit different."

Natasha didn't react to his crude joke. Her eyes bored into his, glaring into his soul. Any other clever remark died in Clint's throat as the cold surface pressed against the thudding artery in his neck. He swallowed, staring back up at her. The practice knives were deliberately blunt and ineffective so that agents didn't accidentally hurt each other during training but if one was to really put their mind to it, they could still cause some damage.

Clint started to realize this fact as the blade pressed against the scruff of his jaw, "Natasha…?"

She glared at him for a second longer. He stopped struggling and stared up at her, shock starting to sink onto his face. They stayed like that for a long moment. Eventually, she released him. He sighed in relief, melting into the mats when the blade drew away from his throat.

"Woah… honey, you scared me," muttered Clint, putting a hand to his throat to feel the indent where the knife was pressing into his skin. "We're not playing for keeps."

Natasha didn't respond right away. She didn't look at him at all. Instead she was staring off at the floor and hiding her face behind a cascade of crimson hair. Finally she spoke, "Force of habit."

Evelyn bit her lip nervously. It sounded to her like Natasha's training was much more brutal than the average agent had to go through. The idea stunned and repulsed her at the same time. Natasha learned to take a life in the same way she learned multiplication tables. SHIELD didn't put an emphasis on lethal tactics, people were often more useful when they were alive, but it was common knowledge that deaths were going to occur and you had to be prepared for it. But she didn't like thinking about it.

"Aren't you concerned?" she asked Clint later, before she went home with her father.

"Yeah, I'm concerned," he retorted, "But what can I do? I can't un-do whatever training she's had. I don't even _know_ what training she's had. All I can do is help her along as best I can and figure things out when she decides she wants to talk to me."

"That's ridiculous," she snapped, gathering up her schoolbag and shoving her biology textbook inside, "You could have been killed today. Then what?"

"Aw, that's what I have you for," he tried to reassure her, putting a fond hand on her shoulder, "You patch me up all the time."

"What if I'm at school, smart guy?" she snapped, "Head wounds bleed out quick and there's no way I could get from school to here in time to help you. You would be screwed then, wouldn't you?"

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "Okay, what I am I supposed to do? She's my responsibility. I agreed to take care of her. I… _want_ to take care of her. I gotta make this work!"

Evelyn pouted. She didn't like the situation but it seemed like there was nothing she could do about it. She asked about opening Natasha's files and Agent Hill said she couldn't do it. Too much of it was part of an open investigation and highly sensitive. Evelyn understood the technicalities, but that didn't mean she had to like them. She told her father her concerns.

"He needs full disclosure if he is going to work with her," insisted Evelyn, "Especially after something like that."

Phil tilted his head and smiled at his daughter, "I appreciate the concern, but why isn't Clint coming to ask about it?"

"Because he's an idiot," she said simply. Phil couldn't help himself. He started laughing. Evelyn crossed her arms indignantly. "It's true. He thinks he can handle it and that she will tell him when she's ready. I'm not so sure. He cares more about being a nice guy than he does about saving his own ass."

Phil smiled, "All we can do is keep an eye on them. Support both Clint and Natasha as best we can. I'll admit, I am glad Clint is taking responsibility for someone. It's good for him."

She sighed, closing her eyes and trying to take her father's words to heart. It was hard. It meant putting aside her own prejudices. That was more difficult than she thought. Suspicion still lingered in and around the background of her interactions. But it seemed as though Natasha realized her error and nothing like that occurred during sparring again to Evelyn's knowledge. She still kept a wary eye out anyway to make sure Clint didn't get himself in trouble again.

As she was keeping an eye around the squad, she noticed a few new faces among the number. Most of them were bright-eyed, bushy-tailed newcomers in awe of everything around them. But one of them, she took an instant dislike to. He was tall, neat, and had eyes like shards of flint. There was a coldness in his demeanor. His posture was a little too stiff and his mannerisms a little too controlled. Everything about him screamed 'hardcore military' and made her uneasy.

"Who's he?" she asked Clint one dinner, pointing with her coffee mug.

Clint followed her gesture and looked back over his shoulder. "Oh, that's Rumlow. He graduated academy last spring. He got assigned to local domestic squad."

"I don't like him," said Evelyn, a frown crossing her lips.

"I agree," said Natasha. Evelyn looked over at her in surprise. Natasha's pool blue eyes were narrowed in his direction. "Watch him."

"Yeah, you bet I will," muttered Evelyn.

"You two be nice," ordered Clint, "Come on, he's only been on the squad for a week. He's very good. Military academy and all that crap."

"So his folks are well off?" deduced Evelyn.

Clint shrugged one shoulder, "It would make sense. He doesn't talk about them much other than to say that they aren't close and he doesn't much care for them. But, I mean, a lot of families are like that."

"Uh huh," Evelyn said, unconvinced. Clint was speaking from personal experience, his own messed up home life back in the circus. But she and her father never had problems, at least nothing that they couldn't solve by talking it out or taking a moment to cool down. "And he's on local domestic squad?"

"Yeah."

"Your squad?"

"Not right now. It's weird, actually. Fury is shuffling people around. Nobody is sure why, but I think he wants to move us from local domestic to regional domestic. Or, you know, he's planning something top secret that I know nothing about. That's a possibility too," he glanced over to Natasha, "Do you have any insight?"

"He's not moving us up," said Natasha, poking at her food with a decided lack of interest, "He's creating a new squad."

"What kind of squad? Wait, how do you know there's a new squad?" Natasha smirked but didn't respond. Clint groaned in frustration, throwing his hands up. "You know what, nevermind. Keep your secrets."

"All squads on standby," said the loudspeaker, interrupting her conversation, "Repeat, all squads on standby."

"That sounds like you," said Evelyn, putting her schoolbooks away in her bag, "I guess I'll be seeing you soon. Don't break your head in the meantime."

"Fine," he stood, "Aw, shit, I almost forgot. Fury wanted to talk to you."

Evelyn blinked, "When did he say that?"

"Uh, sometime earlier today," he admitted sheepishly, "I just forgot up to now."

"Nobody can accuse you of being punctual," snapped Evelyn irritably. She grabbed her bag and swung it up over her shoulder.

"Sorry," he slumped, "I didn't meant to mess anything…"

"Hey, whatever. I'm sure if it was urgent, Fury would have said something himself," she fondly punched his shoulder and smiled. "Good luck."

There were definite perks to being the daughter of Phil Coulson. Everyone knew her name and secretaries and security guards waved her past checkpoints. She was, after all, the original "cactus baby."

"Director?" she inquired politely, knocking on the doorframe before entering.

"Miss Coulson," he turned, "It took you long enough."

"You need to find a more reliable messenger, sir," she said, "Clint's a good guy but if this was the battle of Marathon, we would still be sitting around Athens waiting for our Pheidippides."

Nick blinked, then shook his head. "You are an overeducated smarty pants."

"When you can't do athletics at school, you find other outlets," explained Evelyn, taking a seat opposite his desk.

"That is more or less the reason you are here. We have a project that we want for you to participate in."

"We?"

"SHIELD leadership," he said simply, in typical evasive fashion, "We want to include you in an experimental team to target domestic issues."

"But I'm not an agent," said Evelyn. She felt downright idiotic for stating the obvious but she was honestly wondering if Nick had forgotten. Maybe this was a decoy and the real Nick Fury was hiding under his desk and giggling at her confusion.

"I am well aware of that, Miss Coulson," said the director irritably, "I had to jump through a lot of hoops for the higher ups to even consider this program because you are not an agent. I owe Alexander Pierce a bottle of scotch for this."

Evelyn paused, waiting for him to continue. Nick shuffled papers a bit and then looked up at her. Evelyn shrugged, "So… I'm an agent now?"

"In a manner of speaking. Think of it as an after-school program," suggested Fury, "We'll continue to train you to use your powers just liked you did with the X-men. It won't be much different than what you are already doing with Barton, you will just be called on for any local missions during that time."

"Why?" she blinked, trying to process exactly what was going on.

"Why?" returned Nick, "For the same reason you spent all that time with the X-men. Your abilities have so much room to grow and expand but no place to do it in. You need an outlet. Otherwise you are going to hit a point where you don't know what to do with yourself."

"Since when has SHIELD been in the business of superhumans?"

"SHIELD has _always_ been in the business of superhumans," said Fury quickly and easily. Evelyn stammered for a second, trying to get her bearings before finally finding her footing.

"I don't know if that's really necessary. I've got a handle on things. There haven't been any incidents since..." she tried to remember specifics but couldn't. "Okay, it's been a long time, though!"

"It's not just about that anymore, kid," said Nick, sitting back in his chair, "You've gotten very good at hiding your gift. Admittedly, I had a part in encouraging that. But in the end you have something special in your hands. And I know for a fact that you don't like keeping it hidden away."

He wasn't wrong. The idea that she had to pretend to be normal and blend in while she was at school was something she had a hard time coping with. She found a small group of students at school who she could talk to and go for advice about schoolwork. But it wasn't anything like her friendship with Kitty or Clint. SHIELD was her home, the place she grew up, and the one place where she could be honest to everyone. It would be untruthful to say she didn't miss the feeling of liberation while she was stuck at school.

"Besides, you have legacy on your side," said Fury, standing and gathering papers to take with him, "Your father is one of the most trusted agents in the organization. There is no doubt that you will be able to accomplish whatever is asked of you."

"I know that," said Evelyn, following him out, "But I also know that he will not appreciate you using that to leverage me."

"I know for a fact he won't," admitted Nick, "but I know he wants what is best for you. Otherwise he wouldn't have gone to all this trouble."

"And you want me to believe that you are doing this purely for my own good with absolutely no ulterior motives, am I right?"

Fury smirked but didn't say anything. Evelyn knew she was right but she knew it was unlikely she would ever find out any details. The director's lips were sealed tight.

Evelyn crossed her arms, a grouchy feeling settling in her chest. She knew her father would say it was important for her to be able to control and understand her powers. But then, what had she been doing during all that time with the X-men?

"I need to talk to Dad about this," she said, almost threatened. She knew if this was a stupid idea or if Nick was being typical Nick and not telling her everything, her father would call him on it.

Fury's mouth twitched into a slightly disapproving frown but he spoke evenly and diplomatically, "I understand. Take a day. But we need an answer soon."

Of course she was going to join. Her father disapproved but they both knew Nick had a fair point. The more time she spent exercising her powers, the less of an issue it would be. It was also fun to join in on the sparring rather than watching from the sidelines. Her first assignment came too soon, in her opinion. Less than a week before starting Fury's "after school special" (Clint's words), she was shipping out with Clint's little group to bust a Maggia black market storage on the Lower East Side.

It was a cold Christmas Eve in New York City. Snow fell earlier in the week, blanketing the city with a white pillow top cushion. It had been glorious as the city awoke and a thin line of golden dawn poked between the clouds to make the icy wonderland sparkle. Snow plows trundled along in the morning and the eternal flicker of hope that school might be called off due to inclimate weather lingered in the air. But it would take more than a season chill to cancel school with winter break breathing down their necks. Teachers hurriedly crammed classes full of homework to try to maximize what they learned before brains went limp and students slipped into the giddy bliss of Christmas cheer.

It had been a few days since that last, beautiful, snowstorm but temperatures barely rose so the streets were lined with grayish brown slush which smelled like salt, antifreeze, and motor oil. The beautiful mornings of sparkling snow were replaced with a mucky sludge. The river was clogged with ice and reflected the cold gray of the overhead clouds as the bus to school trundled over the bridge, among sliding cars and black ice.

But the tree was up at Rockefeller Center and the shops and malls were adorned with red and green lights. Every corner of the city was embracing the season. Salvation Army bells rang on the street corners, and carols played in store loudspeakers. Soft melodies floated through the air and tapped against windowpanes, coaxing Christmas shoppers into the packed stores. The hallway of their apartment complex smelled like Christmas cookies and pine trees. The elderly lady across the way left them a tray of sweets, cookies, and slices of fruit cake spiked with amaretto.

The celebration of the season was on temporary hold for the agents. The strike team readied itself at a warehouse just off the waterfront. Curls of white breath uncurled from under layers of armor and insulation. A frigid breeze rose from the water and left icy kisses on their hands and the exposed skin of their nose and ears. The only one who seemed utterly unaffected by the weather was Natasha. Evelyn assumed it had something to do with being Russian.

Clint and Natasha went in first to gather information off the computers and snoop for anything regarding the contents of these particular shipments and their destinations. There was always a fear that in the scuffle to apprehend this batch of gangsters, they could try to destroy potential evidence. So the evidence needed to be collected and recorded first. Even if it couldn't be used legally, it could point them in the right direction for the next part of the investigation. Evelyn was set on support to ease her into her new after school job. She waited with baited breath for the pair of spies to make contact over the radio. Finally a voice broke through.

"We are at the main computer on site," said Clint, his voice clipped and official. It was so different than his usual voice, she had a hard time focusing on it. "Ready for data transfer."

"Initializing transfer," said Evelyn tapping quickly on her mini laptop's keyboard, "this will take three minutes. Can you two keep cover for that time?"

"Yeah. Hold on," his voice became softer as he turned, "Nat? Will that guy stay quiet for about three more minutes?"

There was a soft thud in the background. And then Natasha's whisper, "He will now."

Thus began the most agonizingly slow three minutes of her life as the download bar inched across the screen. She kept one ear on the line to keep track of Clint and Nat but they maintained radio silence. It was actually a good thing. Silence meant there was no trouble. Finally the transfer was complete.

"Alright you two. Stay in cover. The strike team is heading in to bag the baddies."

They sloshed through the slush as quietly as they could. Evelyn held back. Stuffing the laptop into the medic bag she had been equipped with, she slung it over her shoulder. It wasn't really needed, but it made her feel official, like she was meant to be there instead of being a teenager in over her head. The strike team was efficient, clipping open the door with what looked like bolt cutters. A stream of black-suited agents flooded in through the door. Laser sights danced through the cold air. So far, everything seemed to be going well.

Something cracked through the cold air. It sounded like ice breaking on the water, which was why Evelyn didn't react to it right away. More snaps and pops cut through the air and she realized what it was. It was hard to tell if the gunfire came from agents or from the Maggia. She quickly hurried into the warehouse.

The situation was messy, but it seemed like the agents had found cover and secured most of the area. A handful of Maggia had surrendered and they were being escorted out. But there was a bundle of goons trying to hold out, maybe so they could destroy evidence or dump their stash. A portion of the strike team was holed up behind some crates, poking their noses out to check the situation. They narrowly avoided a spray of automatic weapons fire.

Evelyn cracked her knuckles and darted forward. She felt some ambient electricity in the air, maybe from the computers that Natasha and Clint found. But she knew it would be limited, not nearly enough to hold for long. But she was able to put up a shield around the crates where the strike team was holed up.

"Hey," she shouted. Maggia bullets melted against the shield. The team leader signalled them to head into the open and over to better cover. They were able to flank the Maggia and apprehend this group. One of them tried throwing a punch to get away. Rumlow grabbed him by the dark, greasy hair and got his other arm behind his shoulders so he was pinned. But that didn't stop the thug. He gnashed his yellow-stained teeth and spat curses at the agents.

"Can you zap him?" asked the strike leader, "Give him a little shock to shut him up?"

"I'm a medic, not a taser," grumbled Evelyn but she held out a hand, "What if he has a heart condition or something?"

"Can we hurry the fuck up?" asked Rumlow. He was struggling to keep the man stable.

"Hey, There's a lady present," said Clint from somewhere off to the side, picking arrows up from where he shot them.

Evelyn sighed and readied her hand. Blue sparks shot from her fingers. She was trying to calm his nerves but it wasn't working. Maybe it was not so much a condition of rage as it was mental instability. She had no time to try to diagnose the problem because the man kicked at Rumlow's legs so he buckled and the pair hit the floor. Evelyn panicked. A large jolt flew from her hands and struck the pair. It hit the man square in the chest so he shrieked and then collapsed, momentarily stunned. Rumlow held up an arm, which protected him from most of the blast but not nearly enough. The waterproof exterior melted and the fleece interior burned for a second before it spluttered out. His exposed skin was red and angry-looking.

A pair of agents jumped on the gangster and cuffed him. The gangster swore and spit, his arms and chest flushed with what looked almost like a sunburn. They wrestled him away, stuffing him into a SUV and reading him his Miranda rights.

"Oh my God!" Evelyn jumped back, the last few sparks of light still lingering on the ends of her fingernails, "Oh my God! I am so sorry!"

Clint was at her side in a moment, holding her wrist gently. "Evey, Evey… Don't panic. It's okay."

"The hell it's not okay!" growled Rumlow as he stood up, his face red as a steamed lobster, "What the fuck?"

Clint stood between them, "Lay off. It's not her fault."

"The hell it isn't!"

Clint's eyes narrowed, "You were both there, rolling around. Anything could have happened."

"Well, yeah, this is what happens when you let a little girl in the field," hissed Rumlow, taking a step into their personal space, "Especially if they're just here because of who their dad is."

Both Evelyn and Clint started to turn red around the ears. His grip on his bow tightened. The tension was only broken when Natasha stepped into the middle of the fray. Her sleek blue eyes met his flint black ones.

"I think it is unwise to taunt the person who might have healed you otherwise," she said cooly and evenly, crossing her arms across her chest.

Evelyn was grateful that the fight died down. The strike team officer ushered everyone away. There was a good deal of cleanup and debriefing which needed to be done. She sat on the bus back to headquarters with her hands in her lap. She didn't like the guy and now she had even more reason to loathe him with every fiber of her being but she didn't want to _hurt_ him. That wasn't her intention. She would have willingly offered to heal him if it wasn't for the fact that Rumlow refused to be within ten feet of her. Natasha also told her to stay away from him because he didn't _deserve_ a second thought from her. Evelyn wasn't so sure, and she wasn't sure she liked that thinking. It made her pulse pound and her chest feel flushed.

She was still feeling quite numb when they sat in the debrief. Fortunately her father was there to go over the new data. He was shocked to see a familiar name among the data that Clint and Natasha retrieved. There was no way that the AIM on this page was the same AIM that he butted heads with all those years before.

"So," Phil muttered, looking over the reports, "Why does a scientific think-tank need military grade weapons? And why is it going through organized crime to get them?"

He glanced over the top of the report to survey the team. Everyone looked around and each other and looked back, wondering if this was a rhetorical question or if they were expected to offer up solutions.

"They're not a think tank," said Natasha, finally breaking the silence, "Not anymore. They've militarized. Possibly they have been in the process of doing it for some time. And with upcoming shipments of explosives and technical wiring gear, I would assume they are going to launch a large-scale operation. And they're going to do it soon."

"Very good deductions," he praised Natasha fondly. He lifted his head to address the rest of the force. "This isn't over. But you are dismissed until we know more."

Evelyn left right away, storming to her locker to collect her things. She almost didn't realize Clint was following her until she was nearly there.

"Hey," he said softly, "You okay?"

"No," Evelyn was near tears, "No, I'm really not okay at all."

"Look, he shouldn't have said things like that to you. He might have been trying to say something but he didn't say it right," said Clint, "But a lot of the military school kids are hard to get along with anyway. They have more training and they started younger. They have a different mindset. If you didn't live it, it's hard to wrap your mind around."

"That's bullshit. You started shooting when you were a kid and you're not like that," she insisted. Her tears were angry, burning her face red.

"That was different. I was learning to be an entertainer," he clarified. "I was a carnie, Evey. I'm not in even remotely the same class."

"It's still weapons training," she wiped a stubborn tear from her eye.

"They never made me actually shoot a real person. If we did trick shots with a live target, like a William Tell thing, there were always safety precautions to keep people from getting seriously hurt. It's a magic trick, an illusion. And I got good enough on my own that I knew I wasn't going to hit someone even accidentally," he scratched the back of his fluffy blond head, "I didn't realize how hard that would be to actually shoot to kill until I started camp. Trust me, it's not easy. It's not fun. You really have to do a lotta soul searching to get to a point where you're okay with it. I still don't even know if I'm okay with it. The fact that you're upset isn't a bad thing."

Evelyn pondered it. To be honest, she wasn't sure she would be able to take a life even if she had to. It was one thing to bust up a sentinel. They were machines bent only on hunting mutants. But at the end of the day, they were nothing but mindless automatons. No actual person suffered harm, except maybe whoever had to pay for the property damage.

She thought of the blade Natasha held to Clint's throat and shivered. "I'd be too scared to go through with it."

"It ain't fear," corrected Clint, "see, I thought it was at first. But I realized it ain't that. It's more than that. It's called being human... and having a soul. The instant it becomes easy to kill is the instant you lose any sense of humanity you got left."

He wrapped an arm over her shoulder so he held her in a friendly one armed hug. "Promise me you never get that way," he whispered.

She returned his hug, "I won't."

His embrace tightened, "You better not."

He walked out with her into the street. Since they returned, it started to snow big, fluffy flakes. Looking up into the steely gray clouds was like peering into the dome of a snow globe from the inside. Clint lingered back while Evelyn found herself lost in the snow, pulling the warm knit scarf over her face to hide her cheeks, flushed with emotion. He deviously rolled a snowball using slush from the stairs.

"Hey, Evey?"

She turned and only had a split second to react as the slush ball hurtled toward her head. Cursing Clint's perfect aim, she instinctively threw up a shield of blue light and the offending projectile vaporized into a hiss of steam. Clint was laughing.

"You are no fun in a snowball fight if all you are going to do is shield every time something comes toward you!"

"I panicked!"

"Clint," Phil smiled and shook his head as he descended the stairs. Natasha was just behind him, wrapped in a furry parka. "You should know by now that SHIELD agents are the worst people in the world to get into snowball fights with."

"It was worth a try," he shrugged, slinging his quiver back over his back. "So, to your place, sir?"

"Yup," said Phil, "No sense you two being alone on Christmas."

Clint offered a hand to Natasha. She handed him a small carpet bag. It was one of only three items she brought with her from Russia and it held every one of her worldly possessions. He took her hand and helped her into Lola. Evelyn smirked at him. He shot her a look that clearly said "don't ruin this for me."

He admitted to Evelyn that he was crushing on Natasha pretty hard and was eager to impress her. Part of the reason of inviting her along was so he would have a chance to spend the holiday relaxing with her and showing off his charm... or something like that.

When they got back to the apartment, it was dark. Evelyn and Phil had been so busy, there had been no time to decorate anything other than their small tree. Clint began pulling out long strands of lights and paper ornaments from school. He started decorating the windows with a paper chain. Natasha stood, watching as the apartment transformed from the ordinary appearance into a Christmas dream.

"Dad? I could use some help with the Christmas lights," said Evelyn, standing on her tiptoes on a chair by the window.

Clint's eyes lit up as he reached for his bow, "Don't worry… I've got this."

"No," insisted Phil in alarm, "Get a stool and put up the lights. I am not going to spend another afternoon spackling the drywall because _someone_ had to whip out his bow for every mundane task."

Clint groaned but slunk off to the hall closet to get a stool. There was a knock at the door. Evelyn dropped the strand of lights and raced to answer it, nearly knocking over Clint in her excitement. She flung the door open, arms held wide.

"Kitty!" She squealed as the door flew open, banging against the wall.

Her friend stood in the threshold, a sleeping bag in one hand and a small duffle bag in the other. She dropped her baggage and embraced her friend warmly. It had been so long since they spoke face-to-face. It had been even longer since they hugged each other like before.

"Oh my God! I have missed you so much!" Kitty giggled, burying her face in Evelyn's shoulder.

"Oh, I missed you too," smiled Evelyn. Her heart ached, seeing her friend again. It was like they never parted. "Come in. We'll get your stuff put away. And I gotta introduce you to someone."

She pulled Kitty by her arm into the living room. Clint waved, smiling. Kitty returned his smile. Evelyn continued to pull her over to where Natasha was sitting.

"Natasha," she smiled, "This is my friend Kitty. Kitty, this is Natasha. She's a new agent."

"Nice to meet you," Kitty had a big grin on her face.

"Evelyn has spoke about you before," Natasha said with a small smile. She could be pleasant and warm, if a little quiet. But these moments of her being pleasant were often so fleeting in favor of efficiency. But it was Christmas, and her first Christmas in America. Even the former assassin had to warm up a little. "It is nice to finally meet you."

Kitty dug through her duffle bag for a second, "I have presents for everyone."

She pulled out packages wrapped in brown paper and tied with beautiful red and green ribbons. There was one for Evelyn, Clint, Phil, and even one for Natasha. Her packages joined the growing stack under the tree. They were a small group, none of them particularly wealthy. So Christmas was simple and loving. Phil ordered pizza and they started a marathon of Christmas movies.

Part of the way through White Christmas, as Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney sang 'Blessings,' Clint's arm crept around Natasha's shoulder. Slowly, she leaned over and rested her head against his arm. It was a slight gesture but far more attention than he received in all the months of training together. He looked downright shocked but smiled and focused back on the movie. All things considered, his evening was made.

As the movie wound down, Kitty's head jolted to attention. It was like a dog with a whistle, hearing something that nobody else could hear. She turned and elbowed Evelyn to see if she was awake.

"Hey, I'm getting something from Xavier," said Kitty, standing, "I'm sorry. I gotta go and meet them."

Evelyn shrugged, shaking her head, "Don't worry about it. Do you need a ride?"

"It's not far. I can grab a bus," She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, "I'll be back. I promise. I'm not missing Christmas with you."

Phil walked into the room, looking at his phone, "Kitty, I'll take you. It looks like we're going to be helping you. Holiday shoppers are being targeted by an unknown batch of mutants. We need to try to minimize any casualties."

"Do you need me?" asked Evelyn, feeling nervous.

Phil wrapped an arm around her shoulder. He smiled, "I know you had a rough day. Take the evening off. Relax. Nick is going to shuffle around teams to put you with a group that will serve you better."

"You mean 'not Rumlow,'" she said, self-loathing squeezing her chest like a vise.

"Among other things," said Phil diplomatically, "Don't worry. We'll make this work."

"He said the only reason I'm even in the squad is because of you."

Phil frowned, "You know that's not true."

"I do. But," she wrung her hands, "It's still… I don't…"

Phil pulled her into a hug, "You don't have to worry about what he thinks. You know what is true and that's what matters. So don't let him ruin your Christmas break."

Evelyn nodded. Clint was readying his bow, counting how many arrows he had to spare. Natasha pulled her furry parka over her head and stuffed her hands into knit gloves. The snow had picked up, threatening to become a real storm. She squeezed her father's shoulders. "Be safe."

"I will," he promised, "We'll be back."

The apartment was really quiet when everyone left. There was naught to keep her company but the twinkling lights and the falling snow just beyond the window pane. She considered starting another movie but it only highlighted the silence further. Instead, she busied herself making sugar cookies. As she combined sugar, flour, eggs, and milk, she pondered turning the TV over to the news to see if anyone was reporting on what her family was doing instead of spending Christmas Eve with her. But she dismissed that idea quickly. Watching would drive her even more crazy than worrying.

The apartment smelled wonderful as the sugar cookies baked. She turned on the radio while she whipped up a batch of frosting. Kitschy tunes from the past kept her mind occupied while she mindlessly smeared red and green sugar frosting on shapes of trees and Santa faces. She didn't consider herself particularly artistic with her baking. If it tasted good, that was really all that mattered.

She was so absorbed in baking that it took her a minute to pick up on the tune of the radio. Someone was crooning "I'll be home for Christmas."

She felt tears come to her eyes as she placed the cookies in the jar. She simultaneously hated and loved the song. It was so beautiful, the wistful sentiments of a man far from home yearning for Christmas and all the trappings. But she never felt more alone than when she heard the song. It didn't help that the rest of the apartment was silent, save for the faint sound of traffic below and the occasional clunk from the heating unit. She turned off the song so she might feel less acutely aware of her situation.

Eventually, there was nothing left to do but to crawl into bed. But even that was more difficult than she expected. Her sleep was fitful and uneven, always just barely teetering on the border of wakefulness and dreams. It was when she was in this state that she faintly heard the door open. Her body tensed but then relaxed when she heard Clint and Kitty speaking in low tones.

Her door creaked open and her father whispered into the dark, "Evey, honey, are you awake?"

"Sorta," she muttered, rubbing her eyes, "is everyone okay?"

"Everyone is fine," he walked in and closed the door, "No worse for wear."

"That's good," she snuggled against her pillow.

"I have something for you," he whispered, holding out a shiny red package with a gold bow. It wasn't large but she was intrigued.

Slowly, she peeled the wrapping off the box and pulled off the bow. Inside was a small black box. She opened it and a pretty gold necklace rested on a piece of black velvet. In the middle was a charm with a gold heart and in the middle, a single shining peridot. Her birthstone shone in the dim light, glittering like a star.

"Oh Papa," she reached across the covers to hug him, "You shouldn't have."

"I felt bad you were left alone," he said, running a hand through her hair, "and we didn't get a chance to open a Christmas Eve present like we always do."

"You're my Christmas Eve gift, Papa," she said, "I'm glad you're home safe."

Phil embraced his daughter. She smelled like berries and shortbread. He eventually let her slide back under the blankets and he tucked the covers up around her.

"Merry Christmas, Evey," he smiled, kissing her forehead.

"Merry Christmas, Papa," she replied with a yawn.

It was much easier to sleep now she knew everyone was home and safe. She slept so well that she didn't even notice her temporary roommate sneak in during the night. Messy red hair poked up from the top of a sleeping bag sprawled on her floor. Evelyn blinked, wondering what Natasha was doing in her bedroom. Some part of her assumed she would be bunk in wherever Clint was but maybe her father had been keen to discourage that.

Natasha was curled up into a tight fetal position inside the fluffy bag. It was hard to tell if she was cold or just tense. To make sure, Evelyn pulled one of the quilts off her bed and tucked it around her. She let out a tiny sigh but otherwise didn't react. Evelyn stepped around her and made her way to the kitchen to get breakfast started.

Kitty was fast asleep on the pull-out bed, curled up around a pillow and snoring softly. With a wry smile, Evelyn flipped on the kitchen lights and pulled out a pan to begin frying eggs for Christmas breakfast. Shortly, the hiss of eggs cooking and the smell of the bacon beginning to crisp up in the oven woke up everyone in the apartment. Phil stumbled from his bedroom and Kitty was just beginning to stir. She turned on the CD player in the kitchen and light big-band Christmas tunes crooned a sweet, seasonal wake-up call.

"Merry Christmas," smiled Evelyn as she deposited the cooked eggs onto separate plates and headed back to the bacon, "Hope you had dreams of sugarplums dancing and all that stuff…"

"Right alongside the gingerbread parade," responded Phil, kissing her forehead tiredly and fondly ruffling her hair.

"When did you get in last night?"

"Shortly after midnight. You wouldn't believe the cleanup we had to do."

"Where's Clint?"

"He's on a sleeping bag in my room. I'm sure you saw Natasha."

"Yup."

Kitty stumbled over, staring bleary-eyed at the plate in front of her. She blinked a few times as though eggs and bacon were too much to comprehend just yet.

"I'll have hashbrowns done in a bit. They took longer to thaw than I thought."

"Fine by me," said Kitty as she found her fork and dove into the scrambled eggs, "I'm just glad the metaphorical Grinch didn't ruin everyone's holiday. Sorry about the mess, by the way."

Phil smiled kindly, "The mutant riots are not the first or even the worst mess I've had to clean up. Although the Hellfire club certainly seem to be trying to make the top ten. Just about every shop window for four blocks was broken and everyone over that way had a severe migraine courtesy of Emma Frost. I'm sure there is a joke somewhere about someone named Frost being involved in an attack during Christmas but I'll leave Clint to figure that one out."

"I can't stand that woman," grumbled Kitty, "I mean, have you watched her at all? She just looks at you like you are something to eat. It doesn't matter if you are a mutant or not. At least Magneto… I can sort of understand what he wants. I don't like it, but I understand it."

"They just want power," muttered Phil, "When you get right down to it, that's all it really is about. That's what the whole thing is about."

"Stop talking about work" growled a sleepy Clint from the bedroom. He was wearing a worn, baggy purple shirt with an overstretched neckline and black boxers. Kitty blushed as he went around giving Phil a pat on the back and Evelyn a bear hug.

Evelyn shrugged him off and offered him a plate. "It's Christmas. We can stop worrying about Magneto and the Hellfire club and what they're up to for a few hours and just enjoy ourselves. I made hashbrowns."

"You are a saint and an angel," smiled Clint as he reached around to grab the pan off the stove.

"You need to share," insisted Evelyn, smacking him playfully on the shoulder with a rubber spatula "They aren't all for you."

"I'm good at sharing," he smirked. Then without missing a beat he looked around. "Where's Nat?"

"Sleeping still," replied Evelyn, taking the pan from him and doling out hashbrowns among their plates. "She looked like she was having some trouble getting to sleep."

"I've noticed that," said Clint, "But I've been afraid to mention anything."

"Are you also afraid of pants?" Evelyn stared right at his crotch.

"Nothing to see here," he joked, cramming a forkful of hash browns into his mouth. Kitty dissolved into giggles which she tried to smother in her mug of coffee. Natasha eventually stumbled in to breakfast and Clint put on a pair of real pants. They started a game of Scrabble, which Evelyn beat everyone handily. Clint suggested Risk as an alternative, which leveled the playing field.

Partway through the game, there was a knock at the door and Bobbi Morse bounced into the apartment. Her blond hair was curled for the occasion and she wore a silky magenta blouse and neat pinstripe slacks. Maria joined them. She was in all black: a fluffy turtleneck sweater with fine silver threads woven through it, and neat black jeans. The only color on her person was a pretty gold charm bracelet that Evelyn recognized as a gift from her father.

"Hey," smiled Bobbi as she set the stack of gifts on the sofa, "look who's back!"

"Sharon!" smiled her father. He reached out and hugged the blonde woman standing next to Bobbi. The woman returned his hug, a wide smile across her face. She was taller than Phil, her hair styled into movie star waves. Her eyes were clear and blue and framed with lacy lashes. She wore a pretty blue button-up shirt and a white pencil skirt.

Evelyn had some vague memories of Sharon Carter from way back when but this was the first time she had seen her in a good long while. She knew she was the niece of the beloved Peggy Carter, everyone knew that. Phil enlisted her to babysit once or twice but her job as an active undercover agent meant she was in and out. According to her father, she had been heading up undercover operations in Latveria for the past several years and had been out of touch.

"If I have to say 'so says Doom' ever again in my life, it will be too soon," she said as Phil poured drinks for the adults. They handed around mugs of spiked eggnog. Underage Evelyn and Kitty sipped their hot chocolate politely, exchanging a knowing glance between each other. Clint kept trying to sneak off with the bottle of Captain Morgan but Phil smacked his hand away as a warning. Natasha looked like she was holding in a laugh.

"That bad?" asked Phil, taking the bottle in hand and putting it where he could see it plainly.

Sharon took a long drink before continuing. "The whole place feels... constricted. You're watched everywhere you go on CCTV. It's downright Orwellian. That, in and of itself, presented problems with any data gathering."

"How did you do it?"

"Well," she paused, "The Free Latverians are actually amazing and came up with a remarkable solution. There is a whole network of catacombs under the historic district, sorta like Paris. It was built as a necropolis originally, ossuaries. So we had to work around some really ancient tombs. Some were pre-Roman, even. But the underground systems are largely not monitored. The only thing keeping most people out is local superstition."

Phil shook his head, "I can't believe Doom would be so careless."

"Well, he buys into the superstition," clarified Sharon, "The guy's a nut for magical history and lore. He is the largest collector of allegedly magical antiquities in Europe."

"How nice that someone has stepped up to replace Hitler in that regard," quipped Bobbi, with a sarcastic smirk, "Am I going to be sent on a mission to Egypt, perchance?"

"Maybe, but you won't have Harrison Ford in tow," returned Sharon.

"Bummer," muttered Evelyn under her breath.

The adults began to get slightly tipsy as the afternoon dawned upon them. Clint finally managed to get his hands on the rum and snuck a shot when he thought nobody was looking. Natasha snatched the bottle away but also took a nip of her own before putting it back. His arm now rested casually around Natasha as they watched "A Charlie Brown Christmas" on TV. They dozed in and out of sleep, exhausted by the night before and slightly addled by drink. Kitty and Evelyn talked about X-men in the kitchen over sugar cookies but also kept half an ear on the grownup conversation. If the scene was any cozier, it would have been painted by Norman Rockwell. The small group of adults chatted and laughed about work and about life until Phil's cell phone rang unexpectedly.

"Hold on," requested Phil, "I need to take this. It's Anita."

He answered the phone and ducked back into the hall for a second so their conversation could be somewhat private. Sharon leaned in conspiratorially.

"Does Phil have a girlfriend?"

"No but he should," said Bobbi as she sipped her eggnog. Maria shot her a glare. "Whaaaat? It's true."

"So who is she?" Pressed Sharon.

"She's been helping dad with recruiting," explained Evelyn, pouring herself and Kitty some more hot chocolate from the stove, "she works for a mutant action group out west."

Bobbi turned around in her seat, "Don't you think Anita and your dad would be super cute though?"

Evelyn paused. She really hadn't thought about it. But she liked Anita a lot. She was sweet and easygoing. She also made her father smile, a fact she didn't even think about until that moment. She shrugged in response, "I just want Dad to be happy. If Anita makes him happy, then she's alright in my book."

Clint yawned from the couch, "I agree with Evey."

He nodded back off to sleep moments later so it was hard to tell if he had even known what he was responding to. few minutes later, Phil rejoined the group. It didn't escape anyone's notice that there was a bit of a smile on his face and a sparkle to his eyes. He pocketed his phone and picked up his eggnog again.

"Anita says Merry Christmas to everyone," said Phil.

"Is she up in Seattle?" Asked Evelyn. She knew a little about Anita's family from their conversations.

"Yeah. But she's hurrying back because the Symphony is doing a Christmas concert."

"Oh," Bobbi's ears perked up, "She's musical too?"

"She plays cello with the Portland Symphony," clarified Phil.

"Multitalented," she muttered into her mug of nog. Evelyn shook her head quietly.

The more she thought about it, the more she really kind of liked the idea of Anita and Phil's previously platonic relationship developing. She made a note to mention something to her father and give him an appropriate nudge. Although, admittedly, she didn't know what form that nudge would take just yet. Nature was calling and she had to slip off to the bathroom.

She could hear a muffled speaking through the wall as she took care of business. The apartment complex afforded little privacy. Admittedly, it was better at most. But she could always hear the couple two apartments down arguing, the annoying little dog barking upstairs, and the baby across the way crying early in the morning. She was shocked when she heard her own name through the hall. Curiosity overwhelmed her and she pressed her ear up against the thin wall so she could hear what the adults were saying. It was still muffled but she could pick up most of the conversation.

"It's actually nothing to do with her," someone was saying. It was a slightly lower female voice, so Evelyn assumed it was Maria. "But Fury's on a kick. He's investigating all of your aunt's old files. We started with Steve Rogers and worked our way forward."

"I'm going to assume that's why he called me back," said another voice. She was almost sure this was Sharon. "The family connection."

"If that's the case, he hasn't told me. He's also kept Hand all but clueless about the whole thing, which is royally pissing her off. He's arguing it is archival follow up rather than new, international missions. So she is on a need-to-know basis. And she mostly doesn't need to know."

"I bet there have been fights."

"Have there ever!" Interjected a third voice. This was definitely her father's. "I'm stuck in the middle of them, feeling somewhat guilty because-"

There was a sharp smacking noise, like someone flicking a towel. Another female voice chimed in, higher pitched, so this was probably Bobbi, "Quit it. None of this is because of you. Or Evelyn. You know when Fury gets an idea in his head, he's like a dog with a bone. You couldn't get it away from him if you tried."

"So, does Red Room actually have anything to do with her?" Asked Sharon, sending the conversation back on topic.

"No. It's impossible. For one, it had nothing to do with energy. For two, they preferred slightly older girls and focused mostly on training. There are a lot of things Evelyn could be, but a Russian assassin isn't one of them."

Evelyn wasn't sure how she felt about people talking about her behind her back. She also wasn't sure she liked Fury's globetrotting quest to hunt down her heritage. But he probably meant well and she would just have to take comfort in that fact as best she could.

"I could have told you that," said Bobbi, "Evelyn can't hurt a fly. She almost had a mental breakdown when she gave Rumlow a sunburn."

Phil sighed, "I'm not sure about this. I know Fury means well, building the program for her and Romanoff but... I have fatherly concerns."

"It's good for them," offered Maria weakly, "superpowered people supporting superpowered people. They can help each other and tackle threats more efficiently."

"I've heard Fury's spiel," Interjected Phil, "but I am also a father who wants his daughter to be safe. And I don't want her to get burned out."

There was a silence around the table for a second. Everyone seemed to be pondering what he said. Evelyn pressed her ear against the drywall and tried to pick out if anyone was saying anything else.

"Already, she is throwing so much of herself in school," elaborated Phil, "and admittedly, that may be my fault because when she was little and discovering her powers, I discouraged after school sports. I was scared something would happen and she would get taken away. Maybe I shouldn't have been."

Bobbi jumped in, "You were only doing..."

"... what I thought was best, yes," concluded Phil, "but now, all she has is school and SHIELD. And I wonder if that was a mistake. You know, she can graduate in a year. She would have to take twenty credits each semester but she could do it."

"Twenty credits is insanity," Interjected Sharon, "I took eighteen credits every term and by junior year, I thought I would blow my brains out. Don't you dare let her do that!"

"I won't, don't worry," said Phil, "I haven't even brought it up, because I'm afraid she will actually try to do it. And whenever I tell her she can't do something, she gets a devious little look on her face and goes and does it."

"Exactly like her father," Interjected Maria.

Evelyn flushed the toilet and washed her hands, signalling that she was on her way back and if they didn't want her to hear anything, they better wrap this up. She took a moment to mull over what she heard. It was something of a relief to know that her and Natasha didn't come from the same place. It also confirmed Natasha's suspicions that Fury was building a new squad around them. She couldn't call herself surprised. It was a very Fury-esque thing to do.

She walked outside and Sharon was gathering her bag. "I'm going to spend some time with my aunt."

Bobbi hugged her, "I'll see you later. Tell your auntie hello. I hope she is well."

"It's her first Christmas in the new apartment. We want as many people there to spend the day with her so she doesn't feel lonely. So all the cousins are going to be there," she pressed her hands to the temple, "It will be a very British Christmas. Fig pudding and all that stuff."

There were hugs all around as she left and a flurry of "Merry Christmas."

All things considered, Evelyn thought it was a nice Christmas. Maybe not the best ever, but she could be happy with what she had: a full home and a happy (if unconventional) family.


	24. Pt 2 Ch 12: Crashing Prom

It was easy for Evelyn to fall into a routine. She went to school during the day, went to SHIELD for training and missions in the evenings. From time to time, she would have a day off from her SHIELD duties. It was nice to have extra time to work on schoolwork. Usually, she spent lunchtime bent double over her lab worksheets. If she needed extra time, she did homework during other classes, stayed up late, or got up extra early to make sure everything was complete. Admittedly, having to find time to do schoolwork was not much fun. It was exhausting, but overall worth it.

But she found that being social was a chore. Most of the other girls she went to school with sat with their friends in the lunchroom and gossiped or did whatever else normal girls their age did. While she wasn't averse to doing so, she was keenly aware that she and these girls weren't really friends. The closest person she had to a friend outside of SHIELD was Matt. They started as lab partners and eventually became study buddies. He was a nice guy but exceptionally shy, almost paralyzed with anxiety at times. He played with the baseball team but when Evelyn suggested going to see a game, he froze, eyes wide as blue porcelain dishes.

"Uh, you don't have to. H-honestly, I'm the backup catcher so you'd be watching me on the bench more than a-actually playing," he stammered, "I-I'm not that good."

"But you like playing?"

"Of course I do," he said, "I like it a lot. B-but, I know it's not much fun to watch. My dad doesn't even come by to watch."

Evelyn frowned. She didn't want to say anything bad about his father. That wasn't the right thing to do. But she was always grateful for the fact that her father stood with her no matter what. It was what dads did, or so she thought.

"What about chess club?"

"Oh, he's fine with chess. Chess is something smart people do," he said with a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice.

Evelyn decided not to press it. There was clearly some family drama going on and she wasn't sure she wanted to be involved. If Matt asked for her advice, she would gladly give it but otherwise, this looked like a gordian knot.

"So what are you thinking about majoring in?" asked Evelyn to change the subject.

"Not sure," admitted Matt, "My dad is a pharmaceutical engineer so, you know, he sort of wants me to go into science. I dunno if I want to."

"You should do what you want to do," shrugged Evelyn, trying to give the best and more diplomatic advice that she could. "I mean, _I_ want to go into medicine, but that doesn't mean everyone has to."

"My dad would like you," said Matt shyly, tapping at the paper with his pen, "You know, he really thinks that science rules the world so anyone who wants to go into science is the best in the world."

Evelyn shut her book, "Okay, well then, what do you want to do?"

He looked genuinely shocked, "Me?"

"Pretend that nothing could stand in your way," she requested, "And you could do whatever you wanted to do on the planet. Anything."

"Uh," he rubbed the back of his head so that the hair stood up funny, "I like math but I think I like doing economics more than science. You know, I like working with money numbers and… seeing how it grows and changes. There are patterns in the way money moves and that's really cool. So something in banking or maybe stocks would be interesting. Yeah, I could spend time doing that."

"That's cool!"

"Y-you think so?" he said. It looked like he wasn't expecting that response. It may have been the first positive response he received from expressing what he wants to do.

"Listen," Evelyn shoved her book aside so she could talk to him properly, "At the end of the day, you have to spend your life with yourself, you know? So why live life for someone else? You should do what you want to do, what makes you happy. That's what matters. If people don't care for what you want to do with your life, that's their problem. Not yours."

The librarian shushed them for being too loud. She was a middle aged lady with thinning yellow hair and lips penciled in with a berry lip liner far too dark for her complexion. The library was her domicile and she ruled with with a totalitarian fist straight out of Orwell.

"Yeah," muttered Matt in a quieter voice so they wouldn't get kicked out, "But… but what if you can't do that?"

Evelyn frowned, "Can't? Or won't?"

He didn't respond. Instead, he buried his face in a book and busied himself with studying so that they didn't have to keep conversing. Evelyn sighed and went back to her own work. If he didn't want to talk about whatever was going on at home, she wasn't going to force him. You couldn't fix something if everyone was content to ignore it. But she couldn't stop thinking about it, wondering what exactly Matt's problem was.

Clint came by to pick her up. He was really proud he had his own car now. It was a small forest green pickup truck, and a bit on the well-loved side. The bumper had a few minor dents but there wasn't a patch of rust anywhere on it. The passenger side door stuck a bit and he had to replace one of the tail lights. But other than that, it worked well. It was _his_ car.

"What're you doing here?" smiled Evelyn playfully, climbing in the passenger's seat.

"Cruising," he smirked, "Looking for cute girls to pick up."

"Har de har," she said mockingly, but she was still jovial, "How're you?"

"Fine," he smiled, "Been keeping busy today. Your dad wanted me to tell you he had to make a quick trip to DC but he'll be back this evening."

"Yeah, I got his voicemail," she smiled, shaking her head, "It's like he's worried I'll forget."

"It's nice that he cares," said Clint. He flashed an obscene gesture to a Mercedes that tried to cut him off while they were pulling out of the parking lot. Evelyn swatted at him but laughed a little as well. "So how is little Miss Graduate?"

"Not a graduate yet," she reminded him as they turned onto the main road and proceeded into the city traffic, "I have a little over two months left."

"Yeah, but nothing is going to happen between now and then to mess everything up," he sighed as they settled into a line of cars. He tapped the horn irritably.

"I could bomb my finals," she threatened.

Clint called her bluff, "You aren't going to because you're smart. I mean, like genuinely smart. You're not a big dummy like me who flunked everything and then dropped out."

"Clint, you aren't a dummy," she insisted, "You got your GED. You can do the work."

"No thanks to your dad insisting," he said but then he frowned and backtracked, "Actually, that's not fair. He was right to insist. I see where it helps, I just... you ever feel like sometimes things get jumbled up in your head? Like, you know you know the information but you can't find it?"

"Sure, we all get that," nodded Evelyn.

"Well, that was all the time in school for me. I just had trouble sitting down and remembering things when I was given a test. So the teachers thought I was stupid and I thought I was stupid," he paused and then turned down a side road, hoping for a shortcut around the traffic jam, "but I felt better when I started learning the bow. I wasn't answering dumb questions. I was actually doing something. And that feels good."

Evelyn continued to nod. "Sometimes people are good at different things. I think Einstein said that if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, all fish are gonna look stupid."

"It don't think that was Einstein," laughed Clint as he fell back into the flow of traffic.

"You get the point, though?"

"Yeah," he said, "But what about you?"

She looked confused, "Me?"

"Well, with high school ending and stuff, what're you gonna do? Are you applying for SHIELD?"

"I can tell what you want me to do," she joked.

"I ask because Nick seemed happy with the progress our squad was making. I think I speak for both Nat and myself when I say we still want you on our squad. It would be really great if you were a full time agent so the three of us could move up to an international squad."

"What about college?"

"What about it? SHIELD could train you."

She considered telling Clint the news she had been holding back on. She wanted to tell her father first but he wasn't going to be around for a little while longer. A special envelope appeared in the mail and she was floored at receiving an acceptance letter from John Hopkins University. There was also a sizable financial aid package attached if she worked with the mutant medical research team. That in and of itself would be enough to help her make her decision for her. She finally broke down and told Clint the truth.

"Don't tell Dad that I told you first," she requested, "I was… I was sort of hoping to surprise him."

"So you're leaving?"

"Yeah. I do plan on coming back. Just not sure when."

"Fine."

She turned to gauge his reaction. It wasn't promising. "Are you pouting?"

"No!" he insisted but his mouth was slightly frowned around the edges. Evelyn sighed in exasperation, leaning against the car door.

"Come on, Clint, don't be like that."

"Like what?" he snapped defensively.

"All grumpy and shit," she explained, "Look, it's nothing personal. I'm not leaving because I don't like you or I don't like what I'm doing or whatever. I'm leaving because this is a better opportunity. I'm doing something… something that makes me feel as good, like how firing a bow makes you feel."

He pulled into his parking place and turned off the ignition. For a moment, he didn't say anything but then he sighed.

"I just got used to you being around," he admitted. "I liked being on a team with someone who had my back."

"You have Natasha," rationalized Evelyn, "And I'm not going to be that far away. Come on, you can visit every time you go to DC. It's really no different than when I was with the X-men."

"I guess," he said softly, "You know, I get it. You're smart and, you know, you have a gift. You should have a chance to use it."

"I'm still trying to help people, just like you. I'm just doing it a little different," she smiled, "You can take the kid out of SHIELD, but you can't take SHIELD out of the kid."

"Yeah," he said but they didn't talk on it any more that day.

Later on, her father returned and wanted to get dinner with her. Evelyn suggested a pizza place where the split her favorite deep dish pizza (Italian sausage with three cheeses). Phil was thrilled when she told him the news.

"The mutant research team?" he said, mulling it over.

"Yeah," she said, "Now, it's not like I have any leadership or anything in the team. I probably won't even get my name on any of the publications. But they need people who can do lab work."

"In exchange for scholarships," he noted, "So what are they doing?"

"I just flipped through the info," she noted between bites of pizza, "But it is about helping develop medications specifically for mutants. Since some of them metabolize things like antihistamines and painkillers way too fast to be effective. And also they work to find ways to treat side effects of mutations, like Kitty's headaches."

Phil nodded. He knew how much the issue mattered to her. "If you want to do it, it is a very prestigious organization. It could be very good for you."

"I really want to do it," she said, but her smile faltered, "But Clint is… upset with me."

Phil blinked, "He's going to have to deal with it. You have a good opportunity. And I know working with mutants is something which matters to you. So do what you want."

"So it's not a problem that I'm not in SHIELD? What about Nick's super-secret kiddie squad? Won't he be upset? I know he spent a lot of time building it."

Phil stammered, wondering how much he could tell his daughter. But he fell back on his 'no secrets' guideline to raising his daughter and spilled.

"The squad was an experiment to begin with," he admitted, "When Nick was going back over the old super soldier files, he wanted to have a place for any people we found to go. You and Clint were meant to be the backbone since you work well together. But we didn't find anyone other than Romanoff."

"Nobody?" Evelyn said in disbelief, snagging another piece of pizza, "He spent three years scouring the globe for lab accidents like me and found nothing?"

"Nothing _that I know of_ ," corrected Phil.

"Gotcha," she noted, taking another bite of pizza. "So, the project is sort of done now, due to lack of interest."

"For the time being. Who knows, maybe we'll find another extraordinary person someday and need to restart the team. I don't think it's likely, but it will be there if we need it."

Evelyn dropped her reply in the mail that afternoon. It was exciting that she was going to school, participating in something grand. She also felt a lingering hesitation. Her future, while bound to be interesting, also scared her.

"So, where are you going to school? Got any acceptance letters?" she asked Matt the next day after excitedly delivering the news of her own acceptance.

"Uh, I'm not sure yet," he said, scratching his head absentmindedly, "I've been accepted to NYU and Duke. I also applied to Stanford and got in. And, I really, really want to go. But I know Dad wants me to go to Duke because of family legacy or whatever."

Evelyn sighed and tapped her pen impatiently against her paper. It seemed Matt hadn't listened to a thing she said. And why should he? It's not like she knew anything about his family.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," she said without mirth, "But isn't deadline coming up soon?"

"Day after prom."

Evelyn hadn't even been thinking about prom. She had sort of written off going because she didn't have a date and wasn't really a part of a clique in order to tag along. For that reason, she didn't attend Homecoming or other formal dances.

Some of the girls talked about the money they spent on their dresses, their plans for nails and makeup, or their dates. Over-the-top prom proposals were becoming regular occurrence. One boy hid in a girl's locker with a rose to ask her out. When she unlocked her locker and he jumped out, it scared her so badly she hit him in the head with her physics textbook. He had to go to the nurse's office with a concussion. But apparently she did say yes to the dance.

"Actually," Matt was still nervously scratching his head, "I was wondering if maybe… if you were okay with it… and I don't want you to feel pressured or anything, but if you want to, would you like to go to prom with me?"

Evelyn sat in stunned silence for a moment, unsure of what to make of this. Why was Matt asking her out?

"Like… as a date?" she said stupidly, feeling her face turn a bit pink.

"Well, sorta," he said, "If you aren't okay with it, it's no big deal."

"No, no," said Evelyn hurriedly, "I'm okay with it. I'm just a bit confused… do you… like me?"

Matt looked around the library, keeping an eye open for the librarian, "I don't know if you noticed, but I'm not so good at making friends and stuff. I just… I get so shy. I feel scared. But you, you were nice to me and you could have been friends with anyone."

"Well…" That was far from true.

"Come on," he said, "If you weren't so mysterious and disappeared after school, you could totally be one of the queen bees."

It didn't work that way and she knew it. Plus, she already had to deal with SHIELD politics, she wasn't about to add high school pettiness on top of it. Honestly, the squabbles that circulated the school rumor mill made her miss fighting with Scott.

"But," he said, trying to get back on track, "I guess I do like you. I don't know as, like, a girlfriend or anything. But it's nice to have a friend. And, I'd like to do this as thanks. Because, you know, prom is one of those things they say you remember about high school forever, and I'd only want to go with someone who I actually could call a friend. And, that's you. And… I'm rambling. Sorry."

"No, no problem," said Evelyn nervously, "I'd like to go to prom with you."

He perked up, "Really?"

"Yeah. Sure. If you send your acceptance letter to Stanford."

He paled a little at the idea. He started itching the back of his head nervously, curly hair sticking up awkwardly in the back. "It's not that easy."

"Bullshit," snapped Evelyn, "You know it's what you want to do. So go for it."

He was quiet for a second, "I-I guess I will."

"Good," she replied, "So that's settled."

Of course with that revelation, Evelyn had a whole new list of things to do. The dress she thought she wouldn't have to shop for, for one thing. After school, Maria took her out to the mall to look at dresses. There were very specific guidelines that Phil had for dresses. Maria was there to note which were reasonable and which were paranoid (but well intentioned) bullshit.

It was fairly easy to weed out things which were too sparkly, too gaudy, too revealing, and too reminiscent of a Disney princess ballgown. She finally found the one to her liking, buried in the back of the rack in a small specialty shop. It was a retro style tea length velvet dress in midnight black with cap sleeves. Evelyn turned in the mirror and watched the skirt flare around her, supported by a poofy petticoat..

"You look very pretty," Maria complimented the girl, brushing her hair off her shoulders. "We'll have to figure out something for hair and makeup. But you look very… Grace Kelly."

"If nothing else, I have my very own little black dress now." Evelyn smiled, "And I like old things. Nobody wears them anymore. It'll be special."

She also wanted to do something particularly special. Prom was a once-in-a-lifetime event, she reasoned. If you didn't make the most of it, then you were wasting your time. And she had a plan, if only her father would grant his seal of approval.

"Dad, will you let me drive Lola?"

Phil looked up from his newspaper and saw his daughter looking expectantly across the table at him. Her driver's licence was burning a hole in her pocket, that much as obvious. He shook his paper and continued to read.

"No."

"But Dad," she whined, "I already know how to drive. You know I'm a good driver. I can even fly a jet!"

"That's great," said Phil, unimpressed, "But Lola is different."

"How?"

"Lola is stick shift," he said to hopefully cut the conversation off before it went too far.

"Rogue taught me how to drive stick," countered Evey, "And the jet is even more complicated than stick!"

"Lola is a classic," he countered.

"I'll be careful," she offered.

Phil peeked up over the top of his newspaper again, "Try telling that to the Jeep, Dear."

Evelyn pouted, her auburn brows knitted together as she recalled the jeep incident. It was about a month ago on a mission which ended especially badly. A jailbreak at Riker's Island ended with a number of high-profile mutants escaping before containment crews could arrive. There were major headaches and extensive paperwork as a result.

"Dad," said Evelyn planting her hands against the table, "You try driving a _metal_ Jeep when the person you are chasing can manipulate _metal._ Is it any shock that the car got turned to scrap? It ain't my fault."

"Isn't," corrected Phil quickly, "Your grammar has gotten horrible, Sweetie."

Evelyn growled a little under her breath, "The point is, it's Magneto's fault the Jeep was scrapped."

Phil continued to look at the paper, "SHIELD got the bill."

"When did you become head of accounting?"

Phil decided not to try to respond to that. The ensuing argument would not be worthwhile. "Ignoring the cleanup bill, the primary objective was to seal off Rikers so Mystique and Magneto didn't escape. And that didn't happen. So we're back all the way at square one, where we began, with the Brotherhood."

Evelyn put her hands on her hips, "Well my primary objective is to drive Lola, to the prom, with Matt."

Phil damn near choked on his coffee. He assumed the 'I-am-your-father-and-I-have-a-gun' voice when he asked the burning question, "Who's Matt?"

"He's a guy, from school."

"Is he a friend or a ' _friend_?'" he as he drew out the word and made little quotes in the air with his fingers.

"Seriously? He's a straight A student, on the baseball team and is into chess. He's kind of a dork, actually."

Phil said nothing and went back to his paper as Evey rolled her eyes and walked out of the kitchen. Later, he ran a database search on this Matt character. He was your typical teenager, boring, and without any real issues… which made Phil want to taze him. Maria came up behind him, "Does Evelyn have a crush?"

"Catcher on the baseball team, chess club, national honor society, decent ACT and SAT scores... applying to Stanford, probably going to get a decent scholarship... Jesus Christ!" grumbled Phil as he scrolled through database upon database, "I wish I could find something wrong with this guy. Maybe he beats his dog, or double dips, or… I don't know, thinks Reb Brown was the best Captain America."

Maria shrugged one shoulder and set the Starbucks down on the table, "Sometimes there are just good people in the world, Phil. Not everyone has a bad side."

"Yeah, but it would be easier to dislike this guy if there was a good reason for it," grumbled Phil. He hadn't even met the boy and he was trying not to kick his door down and threaten him.

Maria leaned over his shoulder to look at the dossier he had compiled. Her eyebrows crept up toward her hairline, "Wow... talk about a squeaky clean record..."

"Who has that?" exclaimed Phil, throwing a hand up in frustration, "I mean, he has to have shoplifted some gum or something. Clint has full-on juvie record, for Christ's sake!"

"Are you being sensitive because Evey likes him and your little girl is growing up?" asked Maria. Phil turned, a bit shocked at her bluntness.

His initial reaction was to deny it but he knew that Maria wouldn't believe him. He fished around for words but they weren't quite manifesting. Instead he just sighed and closed out of the dossier. There were some more databases to check but he set them to automatically scan while he did other things. It would probably net nothing but he decided to check anyway. It was obvious that he had been drinking from the same water as Nick Fury.

"It's okay," said Maria as she took her seat at the table, "Everyone is surprised how much she has grown up."

"It was only a few years."

"At her age, that's all it takes. It's called puberty, Phil. You dropped her off at Xavier's when she was a little gawking, gangly thing who tripped over her own feet and then a few years of teenage awkwardness pass. Then you get your baby girl back and she's no longer an ugly duckling."

"She was never really an ugly duckling," defended Phil quickly, "I knew this was going to happen. It's just something that no amount of planning can really... "

Maria rested a hand on his shoulder, "You know you're feeling the exact same thing that every decent father of a teenage girl feels?"

"I know… There's still no way she's driving Lola."

"What...?" Maria was extremely confused.

Phil opened his mouth to reply but he was interrupted by his console beeping. Curious, he leaned over to glance at the database. He looked through the results and was surprised to see a familiar face popping back in like a rash.

"Well, that explains a lot," Phil leaned back, "Matt's father is a part of AIM."

Maria leaned over his shoulder, speed-reading, "That's an awful big coincidence. Let's see... So, he works for a pharma lab, and their long-standing contract is with AIM. Huh. And here I was thinking that the worst thing big pharma did was raise the price of my allergy medicine.

"Shit..." Phil sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"I thought you would enjoy finally finding something wrong with the kid."

"Ye- I thought I would but Evey is gonna be upset," he said, "She was so excited. And I don't know if the kid is involved or not. He could be an innocent bystander or he could be actively trying to… to do something to my daughter."

"Phil, we need to do something," she insisted, "Evelyn could be in real trouble."

"Yeah. I know. This isn't my first tango with these people." Phil swiveled in his chair and looked at his partner, "Did you go prom dress shopping?"

Maria leaned back on the desk and folded her arms, "Yes, got her a black fit and flare styled thing. Don't worry it covers everything, it's vintage. She looks great. But will she still go?"

Phil sighed, "If I say she can't go, it might show our hand to AIM. They might try to do something drastic to get a hold of her. If I do let her go, we don't know what will happen. Maybe nothing, but it would be a risk."

"It would involve Evelyn being live bait," noted Maria.

"I really hope it doesn't come to that."

"I think it is likely," said Maria, thinking tactically, "This is fishy to me. I hate to say it, Phil, but Evey is going to be involved in the fight. If not at prom then… eventually."

Phil sighed, "I just wish she could have a normal prom..."

Maria shook her head, "You should have written off the idea of anything Evey would ever do being normal from the moment we picked her up in the desert."

The operation didn't have a name. It was an informal small gathering of agents setting up a sting to make sure prom went off without a hitch. As much as Phil hated doing it, he left his daughter completely in the dark. For one, he wasn't sure how she would react. Furthermore, if nothing happened, then she would be stressed out for no reason. Phil hoped to high heaven the operation would be a colossal dud.

Natasha did her hair and makeup for the big day. Her eyes were smoky with just a hint of eyeliner wings. Her lips were rosy red, perfectly shaped. A touch of healthy blush on each cheek completed the look, highlighting the nice structure of her cheeks. Her long auburn hair was braided and then wrapped up into a bun. When she stepped out of the bedroom, Phil was amazed to see how grown-up she actually looked.

"You look like a princess," he smiled. They hugged but he was careful not to wrinkle the dress or mess up her hair.

"Oh, Papa," she smiled. Her eyelashes actually fluttered a bit. Or maybe he just noticed the layers of mascara Natasha masterfully applied to make her appear more graceful and elegant. She wore a pair of pretty gold and pearl earrings. To top it off, was the peridot necklace she received as a Christmas gift. She wore it almost all the time anymore.

He fretted, worried about everything that was going on. "Evelyn, are you sure you will be okay this evening?"

"I am seventeen years old. I can handle this. I've been through much worse than a little date."

"I know," Phil fretted. He was already leery about the three-inch heels but Evelyn insisted that she could walk in them and apparently Natasha had been giving her walking lessons so he allowed it. Reluctantly. "I'm just worried what you will do to the poor guy if he tries anything… indecent."

"Dad," she whispered in a low undertone, "I'm in control. You don't have to worry about… you know, accidents."

"I'm not really worried about that either. Just… be safe, Evey," pleaded Phil, "Be a good girl."

"Papa…"

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Most likely it was Evey's date for the evening. There wasn't really anyone else who would come to call at this time of night. Natasha leaned up against the bathroom door to keep an eye on the situation.

"Have a good time, Evey," said Phil as he kissed her forehead, "Be safe."

"Don't worry, Papa."

"Well, if you do find that you need to beat him up could you… leave a little for me?"

Evelyn giggled, "You want a chance to pull out the shotgun on a boy?"

"Well," Phil puffed out his chest a little, "I did train with the Israeli commandos for a few years. I'd like a chance to… refresh my skills, if possible."

"I won't deny you that," she smiled, opening the door. The young man had waited long enough. "Hi Matt!"

He was dressed in a nice suit with a red tie. He held a box with a pretty white rose corsage in a spray of baby's breath. His curly hair was combed and his appearance about as neat as possible from a teenage boy.

"Hi, Ev,"

"Ev?" asked Phil leaning over her shoulder, "Are you going to introduce me, _Ev_?"

"Dad," smiled Evelyn, barely keeping from rolling her eyes, "This is my date, Matt. Matt, this is my father."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Carlton," said Matt, extending his hand. Phil took it, feeling the sweat on the boy's hand.

They went through the usual list of things to remember and took photos of the pair before they left. Curfew was at midnight, no exceptions, not even if the sky was falling. If he caught any hint of inappropriate actions, there would be hell to pay. And other than that, have fun… just not too much. As they left, Natasha watched them with careful eyes. Phil leaned over, following her gaze.

"What kind of read are you getting on him?"

"He's nervous," she said simply.

"Good."

As soon as they were out the front door and making their way to the street, Phil opened his phone and dialed a secure number. It answered on the second ring.

"Barton here."

"Evelyn is on the ground floor."

"Yeah, I have my eye on them," said Clint, "They're getting into a silver Audi."

"Good. You have their trail?"

"I got this," said Clint as he turned the SHIELD undercover car into gear, a nondescript black Ford.

Matt didn't see the car but Evelyn did as they drove to the restaurant. It lingered back, just far away that she couldn't tell for sure if they were being followed or just driving to the same location. She tried to push the sensation that she was being watched out of her mind for the sake of enjoying the evening but the feeling proved difficult to shake.

They pulled up in front of an Argentinian steakhouse and immediately her nose was filled with the warm aroma of roasted meat. It was her first time at this place (it was actually a bit beyond the family budget) but already she could feel herself salivating. It would take all she could manage to remain a lady and not stuff her face the way she did when she ate at home.

The servers brought large skewers of beef and sausage to the table, slicing off portions with long serrated knives. In addition to that was a buffet of roasted veggies, cheeses, dried meats, and salad greens. She had never seen so much food in one place and all of it smelled wonderful. Conversation was her only distraction from digging in.

"Did you send in your Stanford acceptance?"

"Y-yeah, but my Dad is going to absolutely kill me when he finds out."

"It's an Ivy League school," she insisted, "not exactly bad for the resume whatever you end up doing. And besides, it's on the other side of the country. So, you won't have to worry about him."

"You are a bad influence on me," he muttered, half jokingly, "I have never done anything like this, ever. I was always the kid who followed the rules, you know."

Evelyn sighed, glancing down at her empty plate and contemplating getting a third round of that _amazing_ smoky grilled beef. Finally, she decided that it might look like she had an abnormally large appetite and crossed her utensils on her plate. "I never really considered myself a rebel. I just see that sometimes the right thing to do isn't what the rules say it is."

He didn't say anything right away. Instead, he dug in and finished eating his steak. Evelyn tried to nibble discreetly on bread to fill up even though the smell of meat was totally driving her crazy.

They started to head to the dance. She couldn't see the Ford from before so chances were they had gone on their merry way. But when she got out of the car at the hotel where the prom was being held, she felt the press of eyes against her neck. Her head whipped around, scanning the parking lot for anything out of place.

"What's up?" asked Matt, noticing she lingered back.

"Nothing," she lied, "I just… I thought I saw something but it was nothing."

"Okay," he said, suspicious, "Do you want to go in?"

He offered a slightly shaky hand and she took it. They walked into the hotel ballroom. It was a beautiful space with lots of art deco influence. The lights were dimmed but sconces cast a golden hue on the paneled walls, highlighting the sharp lines. Large vertical windows made up one side of the hall, looking out over a small grassy lawn and the private parking lot. Stained glass outlined the casing, tinting the beams of evening light with orange and violet as they shimmered on the parquet floor. The rich cerulean of evening started to settle in, overtaking all other colors. Inside, the hall was adorned with pastel crepe paper streamers and cardboard cutouts of flowers. White linen covered the tall cocktail tables where students gathered with cups of punch and crudite nibbles.

Students filled the hall. Some girls were wearing long dresses adorned with sequins and sparkling rhinestones while others opted for shorter dresses more akin to something worn at a nightclub than a debutante ball. The boys wore the standard jacket and tie combo with a few tuxedos scattered about. A few daring souls wore white jackets as opposed to a traditional black. As the music started, the dance floor filled up.

"Do you dance?" asked Matt, yelling to be heard over the throbbing speakers.

"Maybe. I haven't really tried," she conceded.

"Do you wanna?"

She shrugged one shoulder and took his offered hand to go into the floor with all the other students.

It wasn't really the most pleasant experience. The dance floor smelled like sweat and melting perfume. A few scattered petals from wilting corsages provided relief from the intense aroma of humanity. The bass of the music squeezed at her temples and ricocheted around her chest with such ferocity, she feared her heartbeat would be thrown out rhythm. Her dance skills didn't extend far beyond 'bend knees slightly, turn hips a bit, and hop up and down' but it seemed like that was about as far as anyone seemed to be dancing. So any ineptitude seemed well hidden.

She stepped out of the fray after a few songs, gasping for breath. The air outside of the convergence of students was only slightly fresher but it was enough to work the pungent, overcompensating smell of Axe body spray out of her nasal passages. It was during this respite that she looked out a window and saw it.

There was a black Ford in the parking lot, directly parallel with the window. She couldn't be sure but something in the back of her head warned her this was the same vehicle as before. Matt scrambled from the dance floor to stand with her.

"Hot in here, isn't it?" he said, nervously tugging at his tie.

She gasped, seeing a familiar flash of blond hair in the car and a brief profile of a face, highlighted by the streetlights. Her mouth twitched into a frown as she hoped it wasn't who she thought it was. Her hands clenched into fists.

"Yeah," she said, trying to play it casual with Matt, "I think I might have seen punch earlier."

"I'll get some," said Matt.

"I might make a quick bathroom run while you are gone," she said, hedging her bets just in case this took longer than she expected. "To freshen up a bit."

"Okay," said Matt as he rushed off to get punch.

Quietly, Evelyn dodged the teacher chaperones patrolling the area and slid out a side door. It was left partway propped open for the sake of airflow, lucky for her. The car was not far away, furthering her suspicions that she was being tailed. Her hand closed around the handle and she yanked it open.

"Clinton Barton," she said sternly, grabbing the agent by the collar of his shirt, " _What are you doing at my prom?_ "

"Uh…"

"I just wanted _one night off!_ " she ranted, anger pounding at her temples like the booming bass on the dance floor. " _One night!_ I had it approved with Fury and everything!"

"Evelyn," he held up his hands defensively, "please don't be mad!"

"I _am_ mad," she snapped, "what's going on?"

"We have a… situation."

She blinked once, twice, three times, before speaking. "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

"I _really_ wish I was," he said quietly, "Your… dad is going to be here soon."

Evelyn's mind completely blanked, leaving nothing but a white hot anger. She clenched her fingers so her nails threatened to pierce the thick woven fabric of his bulletproof vest. The idea that maybe she (or someone else in the building) was in trouble didn't quite penetrate the red fog in her mind until she had a few tense seconds to steam. Hot tears burned at the corners of her eyes, threatening to ruin the makeup Natasha carefully crafted for her.

"Look, look," Clint said quickly to try to do damage control, "I can't say anything. You need to talk to your dad."

Evelyn groaned, her voice descending into a snarl. Clint tried to wiggle out of her grasp and she finally let go, but her nails left deep imprints in his bulletproof vest. His shining blue eyes looked up at her. He seemed apologetic but she just wasn't in the mood.

"What do we need to do?"

"Well, the whole stealth aspect of the operation has kind of gone tits up because you're much more observant than I have you credit for. So, you need to find your dad."

"Where is he?"

"He's inside. Back service hall. There's a delivery bay to the left of our position here. Keep going left and you'll find him. But try to be stealthy and not a bull in the china shop."

"Thanks," she said without mirth. After a beat she had a thought. "I need your shoes."

"My what?"

"Your shoes, Clint," she said, kicking off the heels Natasha loaned her, "If I'm going to have to go full agent, I'm not going to do it in shoes that hurt my feet."

"Then what shoes am I going to wear?"

"You can run in your bare feet."

"So can you," he insisted, "I'm not giving up my shoes!"

"Fine," she snapped, shoving the heels into his lap, "Hang onto these for me."

"But I don't wanna," whined Clint as Evelyn sprinted off, following the path that Clint described to her. Fortunately, the ground was dry and only slightly gritty rather than covered with mud and puddles. She climbed up onto the loading dock and slipped into the service hall. It didn't take long before she saw her father speaking in an undertone to a group of black-suited agents. It would seem normal if he didn't have a large gun slung over his shoulder.

"Dad, what is going on?" asked Evelyn, barely keeping the sounds of hurt and betrayal from her voice as she stormed up to them.

"Evelyn!" he said in shock, nearly dropping the clipboard in his hands, "What?"

"I found Clint," she explained, crossing her arms, "You mind filling me in on why my prom is being crashed?"

"I'm sorry," he muttered, taking her off to the side by her arm, "I really am, but we intercepted some information and have reason to believe there will be a situation."

"What? Why?"

"They're after you," said Phil, holding her wrist so tight he feared he would leave bruises.

"They? Who 'they?'" bumbled Evelyn, barely managing to put together a complete sentence in her shock and confusion.

"AIM. Your date has a direct connection with them. We need to separate you and get you out of here," explained Phil as he hurried back the loading dock from where she came. "Where are your shoes?"

"With Clint. I didn't think I would be able run in them."

"I didn't think you would be able to _walk_ in them."

She ignored the snappy remark but had it not been a life-or-death situation, she would have some sort of witty retort. He peeked through the window in the center of the door. The view outside was not promising. Yellow-coated foot soldiers were pouring out of vans and in the process of surrounding the location. Clint had abandoned the car and was somewhere else now, likely taking up a sniping position with his bow in hand.

"Nick," he snapped into his short-wave radio, "I need backup. Send in a helicopter."

"Oh my God, a helicopter?" Evelyn clutched her hair in frustration, "You have got to be kidding me!"

"Back the other way," said Phil, starting to jog back up the hallway, "Perhaps we can cut across the parking lot and get you out of here before they surround the place."

"What about everyone here?"

"AIM isn't interested in them," said Phil, "They'll be fine."

They raced through the hall and burst through the swinging doors of the kitchen. White-coated chefs milled about, turning to look at the strange pair cutting through the ranks and shouting in alarm at the large gun Phil had tucked under his arm. They were greeted by a sea of yellow starting to converge on the exits.

Phil shouldered his gun, putting an arm around Evelyn so that she stood behind him, shielded by his body as the foot soldiers started to filter in..A laser sight trained on the man in the front, skipping across the surface of the slick biohazard suit. They were armed and armored too, prepared for anything.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked around, trying to find a way out. There were also a lot of people in the dance hall, and any one of them had a chance to get caught in the crossfire. She planted her feet behind her father. The familiar warmth of energy raced to her hands, making her arms feel like they were burning from the inside out.

"Hand over the girl," demanded one of the faceless AIM soldiers.

"Don't think so," said Phil, cocking the gun and readying it. "No negotiations."

With that, Evelyn sent a fistful of lightning right at the foot soldier, hitting him squarely in the kneecaps. With a high-pitch squeal, he keeled over on the spot. The acrid aroma of burning rubber and vaporized plastic filled the air. Part of the nearby door frame caught on fire from an errant spark and started to smoke. The fire alarm beeped loudly and then the sprinklers in the room started to go off. There was a shriek from somewhere deeper in the hotel, probably from someone who got an unexpected shower while walking down the hall.

"Who's next?" demanded Evelyn as blue flecks of light danced along her arm.

Water dripped down her face so the smoky makeup ran down her face in black rivers. Her hair darkened from rich auburn to a deep rusty color as it became soaked with water. She looked like a storm, complete with lightning dancing across her body.

"Evelyn, let's get out of here," said Phil in a low, careful voice. She threw up a shield between her and the yellow-suited men as they backed out of the room. Once they were clear, and it seemed as though they weren't being followed, they hurried down the halls and into the main dance area.

The party-goers dispersed, running to the emergency exits as fast as their legs could carry them. Agents kept the doors clear so that nobody was fired on while they tried to escape. The sprinklers up above were dousing everything in water. A group of armed agents hurried toward her from somewhere off in the shadows.

Evelyn took a running leap across the room. Electricity jumped from the shorted-out DJ equipment and into her outstretched hand. Energy ran through her body, making her feel warm and powerful. The electricity jumped from her hands and into the pooling water Several AIM agents received a severe shock to the system and collapsed into the sparkling water.

AIM broke ranks once they realized they were starting to be at a disadvantage. They charged at SHIELD agents with guns blazing. Three agents charged toward Evelyn. There was no time to be scared, no time to think, Evelyn took a deep breath and felt the energy from the room flow into her. The shield flowed from her fingers easily, light dancing in front of her eyes like an aurora. The AIM agents fell backwards into the water.

Out of the corner of her eye, Evelyn saw a SHIELD agent getting slammed in the face by the butt of a gun by an AIM soldier. She cooled her shield and sent a flare of blue light knocking the yellow-suited AIM soldier over. It gave the SHIELD agent enough time to get to her feet and sent a good kick to her adversary so he stopped wiggling.

She was so distracted, she didn't notice the blindside tackle coming right at her. A large AIM agent took a running jump and landed square on her. Pain shot up her leg. She could feel her pulse thudding in her femoral artery but couldn't see what was causing it to hurt. The fat guy was grabbing for her hands to keep her from fighting back. She snarled and started kicking at him, eventually sending him staggering aside with a knee to the gut. She stood, indignant as he fell onto a table and it collapsed. Her father stood next to her, putting a hand around her as the strike team came in and mopped up the remaining AIM agents.

"Well, Dad," sighed Evelyn as exhaustion started to sink in, "You got to pull a shotgun on a boy, after all."

"Where is he?" asked Phil, looking around.

"I lost him on the dance floor," shrugged Evelyn, "He could be anywhere now."

There was nothing to say. It was just a mess. She wasn't happy with it. But as she stood in the remains of the day, she was filled with a sense of weariness. The pretty decorations that the student government spent so much time putting together were completely destroyed. Melted tissue paper hung limply off the rafters. The pretty cutout flowers on the tables were ripped and soaked. Lights shorted out, leaving bits of blown glass everywhere. Evelyn hung her head. It was sort of her fault. Not really, because it's not like she knew AIM was going to crash the dance, but they were still after her. All of this happened because of her.

"Come on," whispered Phil, escorting her out onto the streets, "Let's go. Let's get you home."

A few minutes later, Phil pulled Lola around and Phil reached over to buckle into the driver's seat of the car while Evelyn fiddled with the bobby pins in her wet hair. The dress was in a bad state. Her leg was cut from where she got tackled and there was a tear in the dress. Maybe she landed on a piece of wood or part of the metal table. It was hard to tell but already it was healing up so she decided not to worry. One of her earrings was completely missing, lost in the chaos of the battle.

She sighed darkly, putting her remaining earring on the dashboard. Makeup was smeared across her face, dress destroyed, and the evening was almost totally ruined. Phil felt bad for ruining her night.

"Do you want to go get ice cream or something?" offered Phil.

Evelyn smiled a little bit, wiping her makeup off in the rear-view mirror so it looked less messy, "Sure, Dad."

Phil pulled the keys out of the ignition and looked at it for a long moment. After some consideration, he tossed the keys over onto Evelyn's lap.

"You can drive Lola if you want."

Evelyn leaned forward to see his expression. did he just give her permission to drive his baby? Was he concussed?

"Papa..." she pursed her lips, grinned and opened the car door, catching her dad's attention.

"Only if we go to Sonic," he lay down as his solitary condition.

They switched places and drove back over the bridge to their local neighborhood Sonic. Phil sighed in relief as they slid into one of the parking spots. Evelyn was a great driver but this was Lola, his prized possession. While his daughter was mindful of her strength, he knew she could kick a hole in the metal if caught off guard.

"Papa...?" She stirred him from his thoughts, "Are you alright?"

Phil stared at her, finally seeing her as a woman, even though her dress was torn, makeup smeared, her damp braid resting over her shoulder. She was a woman full of courage and control, getting stuff done even when it was tough.

Phil smiled, "I'm fine, you drove her well. Did you sap some electricity from her for your leg?"

Evelyn looked at him quizzically, and looked at her leg. It was almost totally healed, just a small red line marking where it once was. "Oh shit! Sorry, I must've done it subconsciously."

"Like that blast?" he added.

"Papa...I lowered the concentration so it wouldn't hurt that agent."

"I know, dear. It's just-"

The intercom interrupted, "Hi welcome to Sonic, what can I-?"

"Double Chili cheese coney, onion rings and a vanilla shake." They said in unison.

"Uhh..." The lady hesitated, "Two orders of that?"

"Yes, with a large popcorn chicken too." Evelyn added.

"Ev...?" Phil coughed.

"What? I'm hungry. I ate almost nothing before the dance!"

The waitress gave the amount and Evelyn looked back at her dad.

"Papa, what were you getting at?"

Phil hesitated, putting his arm up on the door, "It's just, you're a woman now, with special abilities...and..."

She smiled softly, "Is this a nostalgia moment for you, Papa?"

"A bit," he admitted with a small smile, "I'm proud of you. You handled yourself well."

"I'm not happy that I had to," she admitted but she was too tired now to summon any sort of anger on the subject.

"I know. And I'm sorry. None of that should have happened. But what could we do, risk a situation with civilians in the crossfire?"

"I know," she sighed, leaning against the doorframe for support. "But… Matt… how long did you know?"

"A few days ago," he admitted, "His father's name came up in some routine investigations. We weren't sure Matt's specific role. We still won't know until the interrogations are complete and wrap up interviews are held. That could take hours."

She didn't like the idea of Matt, the one person she had grown to trust maybe being involved in something nefarious. A deep part of her heart insisted he couldn't be involved. There was no love lost between him and his father.

"We may need a statement from you," noted Phil, "but we won't find out until tomorrow."

"Fine," she sighed. Her stomach growled. She wanted the food to arrive. "I'm used to the paperwork by now."

"Still," he put a hand on her knee, "I'm sorry this ruined your night. And I'm sorry work had to be the thing to wreck your good time. Sometimes it just seems like it finds new ways to ruin your life."

"Papa," She put her hand on his arm," I assumed that once I got back from Xavier's that everything was going to be different for me. I just...I can never be normal. Maybe, that's just the way it will be. And I have to accept that."

"It's okay not to be normal," insisted Phil.

The waitress rolled over in her skates and set the heavy tray down a surprised look on her face as she noticed the two sitting in the car, looking like a complete mess. Hesitantly she dropped off the food and collected the money, hurrying away on the skates as soon as the transaction was complete.

"I know, and besides, who set the standard for what constitutes being normal?"

Phil smiled at his daughter. They ate in mostly silence. She practically inhaled the food while Phil was still finishing up his shake as they climbed the stairs to the apartment. A familiar face sat at the top of the stairs.

"Phil! Evey!" said Clint, descending the stairs. "I didn't see you. I was worried."

He looked like he had showered since the event at prom. The lingering aroma of Dial soap clung to his person. He had a pale bruise on his forehead, like he had been on the receiving end of a headbutt.

"We just stopped for food," explained Phil, holding up his drink. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"My phone is still back at the car," he explained as Phil opened the door, "And the whole area is roped off. I couldn't get close. So Nat's gonna bring the car around while I made sure you two were okay."

"I'm tired," complained Evelyn. "And I need to shower. But other than that, I'm good… I guess..."

Once she cleaned up and slid into a pair of pajamas, she was surprised Clint was still hanging around. Phil took the chance to clean up while there was still some hot water left. Meanwhile, Clint sat on the sofa, watching something on TV. Armageddon was the movie on TV that he settled on to kill time. Evelyn leaned over his shoulder. Clint cleared his throat, pretending he wasn't getting a bit misty eyed.

"Goddamn this movie," he muttered, "I don't cry in movies but I know that song is coming."

Evelyn rested her head on the back of the sofa next to where he was lounging about. He turned so they leaned up against each other slightly. Caught a sniff of her hair.

"You smell like Nat," he muttered.

Evelyn turned to look at him, "That's a weird thing to say."

"Just an observation," he said innocently.

"Well, she did my hair and makeup and stuff. So, yeah, I can see where it might rub off a bit."

"It's a nice smell," he muttered.

Ordinarily, she would have given him a hard time about his crush, called him creepy. But she couldn't quite muster the energy. It was nice just to sit and let the movie play. She could go brain dead for an hour or two and get lost in a story.

"You know," Clint broke the silence, "I never got to go to prom. I dropped outta high school so, my invitation was sorta revoked."

"Yeah?"

"So, I never got to ask a girl to prom. I never got to dance," he said, "Unless you want to."

Evelyn looked up, "What?"

"Do you want to dance with me?"

She looked at him like he was nuts. But then found herself reaching out and taking his offered hand. He put a hand on her waist, following the bend of her ribcage along to her back. She rested her hand against his shoulder. A soft smile passed his face as they started to sway. The movie started to play the Aerosmith song that everyone pretended didn't get them a little choked up whenever they heard it.

The truth was, Clint was very gentle. His hand on her back only suggested where she should go rather than shoving her around. The raw emotion of the song was worth ten electronic bass lines. The smell of clean clothes and soap felt comforting rather than the heady mix of human odors and cheap cologne on the dance floor.

He spun her out, laughing as she stumbled clumsily. He spun her back in and suddenly Evelyn felt lips press against hers. It was only for a second and she jumped back in shock.

"Evey?"

She turned to stare out the window, away from him. Her face felt like it was about to burn off. She didn't say anything right away, staring out the window with her hand over her mouth in shock. Her face felt hotter than ever before, like sticking her head in an oven. She could still feel the slightly sticky outline where his mouth touched hers.

"Shit" he muttered, "I'm sorry, Evey. I didn't mean to. I was going for a cheek kiss. I… damnit… it was an accident. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"It's… it's fine," she muttered, turning back to him. Her face had to be scarlet by now. "I just… I panicked. I've never… uh…"

"You've never been kissed?" said Clint in shock. He frowned. "Oh, shit. Now I feel bad. I shouldn't have…"

She tentatively reached over to hug him, letting him know without words that she understood. Hands cradled her back again but the brief moment they had was gone. The movie continued on, the song was just another memory, one to join the many made tonight. He apologized a few more times before he left with Nat when she was finally able to retrieve the car. But she waved him off, telling him to forget it

Monday morning came too soon. The gloss and the glitter of prom was over, not that she had very much there to begin with. Real life had to start up once again. Real life wasn't as much fun. It was all textbooks, notebooks, and the upcoming summer.

"You'll be alright," Phil said, trying to reassure himself as much as he was reassuring his daughter while pouring his coffee in a stainless steel portable cup. "Nobody we interviewed actually saw you directly and the AIM agents are pleading the fifth. There isn't much for you to explain."

"I guess you're probably right. I suppose I'll think of something to tell people to explain what I did while I was there. But, I'll be busy with schoolwork. Everyone will. There won't be much time to gossip.' Her lip quivered a bit as she looked down, "I wish all this was easier."

"Life isn't easy, Evey," said Phil softly, "You have to work though the bad to get to the good sometimes."

"Maybe."

"So prom didn't work out," continued Phil, "You'll have other great nights. I promise. This isn't the end of the world."

"Feels like it."

"It isn't," he brushed a little auburn curl off her forehead and straightened her headband, "The sun is shining and it's a new day."

"That's so corny, Dad," she rolled her eyes and shuffled a bit.

"But true."

"Okay," she said, "Whatever…"

Phil looked at her sideways just a bit. There was a question that he was a bit hesitant to ask. Now seemed as good a time as any to bring it up, "Are you going to… pursue things with Matt?"

"No," she said, "We were only just friends. I want things to be okay with him but I suppose he will have a lot on his plate now."

"Schoolwork?"

"Yeah, that and dealing with the fact that his father is the part of a secret scientific terrorist group," said Evelyn with a shrug. He would also have to deal with going to Stanford and that drama with his father. Part of her felt bad for pushing him, forcing him to make a decision. His life was probably going to be more difficult now.

"Well," muttered Phil as he pulled the front door open to take Evey to Monday class, "I wish him luck. Actually, I rather feel sorry for him."

"Somehow we ended up with a worse prom than Carrie," Evelyn shrugged, "I don't even know how that is possible."

Evelyn dragged herself to school. Unsurprisingly, prom was the talk of the school. Everyone wanted to tell their story about where they were and what happened to them. But she was surprised to find that Matt was not among them. In fact, he was completely absent from classes. When she asked one of the teachers what happened, it turned out he had been pulled out of school.

It was quite puzzling. She knew through the SHIELD interviews and interrogations, Matt's father was the one to start tracking Evelyn based on what he heard from his son. But from what they could tell, Matt was an unwitting source of information. He didn't know anything about the _actual_ nature of his father's employment. Or so she had been told. She would read the transcripts if ever there was a summer afternoon with nothing to do. But in the meantime, it was lonely to sit by herself in the library. The silence felt stifling with nobody there to help alleviate the mood.

It wasn't until after school that she received a strange call on her cell. The number was local but it didn't come up on caller ID. Thinking perhaps it was SHIELD related, she went ahead and took it. She nearly dropped the phone when she heard Matt's voice on the other end of the line.

"Matt? What's up?"

"I'm at the Greyhound station," he said shortly, "I'm on a payphone."

"What are you doing?" she asked in a conspiratorial undertone.

"Taking your advice," he said shortly, "I have a ticket to California."

It took Evelyn a second to realize the implications of this sentence. Finally it sank in.

"Stanford," she whispered, "But what about your family?"

"I don't care what they think," he said, "I don't care if you know, but my dad was involved with that thing at prom. He was arrested yesterday. Apparently, they were going to try to kidnap some girl."

"Oh, wow," said Evelyn in feigned surprise.

"Yeah. I've done my bit. My father is going to get whatever he has coming to him for whatever it is he did," his voice sounded bitter but not dark, "We never got along anyway, so it's just better I left. I've arranged everything so I can get my diploma and now I'm heading out. I'm starting my life, the one I should have been living all this time."

"So you're running away from home?"

"I'm eighteen. I can do what I want now. And what I want is to start my own life."

"I'll miss you at graduation," she said.

"I'll miss you too. You were the only one I could say I was close to in our class though. But, I'm glad I met you. Seriously, I wouldn't be doing this I'd you hadn't pushed me. I would be too worried about being a disappointment," he chuckled a bit, "It's funny but...I guess I needed to see a real disappointment to understand I wasn't one myself."

"You know, if you ever need anything," she said, "I know I'm going to be on the other side of the country. But… please let me know if there is anything I can do to help."

"Thank you," he said, "You've already done a lot for me. I really do appreciate it. I don't know where I would be if I didn't have you to help me these past few years."

"I'm happy to help," she replied, and with that, he ended the call. Bigger and better things awaited just down the road.


	25. Pt 2 Ch 13: Crossroads of Memory Lane

Graduation was soon upon them. A chapter closing and another one beginning. The past month for Phil had gone like a blur with him having to report on AIM, finalize college paperwork, and dealing with the general craziness of putting his daughter's graduation together.

Phil didn't like that Evelyn was going all the way to Baltimore but she promised they could talk every week. Ideally, she would have gone somewhere closer, like Columbia. But the promise of working with mutants and receiving a hefty financial aid package at John Hopkins lured her away. On graduation day, she found herself proudly sitting in the front row with the other two valedictorians. She smiled and waved toward her small family as she got in line for her diploma.

"Where did those seventeen years go, Maria?" whispered Phil as he held the camera up to snap a picture of her winning moment.

"I'm not sure. But they went by fast."

Oh, God, was he keenly aware of that! It reminded him of how old he was getting. He already got plenty of lip from the students at SHIELD regarding his age. Not that he couldn't still kick ass after all this time. He suspected he might be as spry as he was for his age because of Evelyn's healing ability and her constant close proximity to him. It was hard to tell for sure and there was no real way to test this hypothesis. But it didn't matter too much to him. Getting old was just a part of life. Or he tried to remind himself that when he was at the graduation party.

"I'm surprised she wasn't giving the class speech," said Anita. She had flown all the way out from Portland for the party. "She's a valedictorian. And I have no doubts she could do better than the one fella. He was terrible!"

"Ostensibly, she didn't do the speech because she had only been there for two grades," explained Phil as he poured her a glass of iced tea, "They wanted a student with a more close contact with the student body. But, there were some… comments made about her schooling at Xavier's. I'm not sure how much that had to do with things, but it was _interesting_ that it was brought up at all."

Anita made an irritated little hum, "How does Evelyn feel about it?"

"She's upset, but realizes there is only so much We can do. She's not particularly enthusiastic about public speaking anyway."

Phil decided to rent a space at her favorite pizza place since their apartment was a bit too small to accommodate the volume of people expected for the party. A group of SHIELD agents took up one table, Sharon and Bobbi sharing loud stories. Clint and Natasha were sitting at the next table eating pizza and listening in. Maria had just gotten back from an overseas mission and now she was eating pizza with a ravenous appetite, almost rivalling Evelyn.

The lady of the hour came back into the room, holding a plate of cheesy bread in one hand and a pitcher of soda in the other. Anita leaned over a snagged a big slab of cheesy bread off of the tray as it passed. It did not slip Evelyn's notice that her father's glance lingered just a second longer over Anita. His smile was a little brighter when it was directed at her. They laughed just a second longer at each other's jokes. It was hard to tell if her father was aware of his obvious crush but Evelyn fully intended to give him an earful about it later on.

"Some would say ordering deep dish pizza in New York is sacrilegious," noted Nick.

"I didn't know there was a pizza religion," she joked, "We have both, but it doesn't much matter since I'm going to Baltimore in the fall anyway. Going to be far away from the pizza holy wars."

"I wanted to talk to you about that," said Nick, taking a slice of thin crust pepperoni for himself.

"Pizza?" Evelyn feigned ignorance. Nick wasn't having any of her silliness.

"I meant school."

"Yeah, I've been waiting for this," Evelyn sighed, sitting cross-legged on top of the table so she was on eye level with Nick. The table creaked as she settled into place, unaccustomed to being abused in such a way. "I know what you're gonna ask. But the answer is no right now."

"You didn't even listen to my proposal," insisted Nick indignantly.

"Clint tells me everything. How he managed to become an agent is beyond me because he sings like a parakeet," she joked.

"Hey!" said Clint indignantly from two tables away.

"Sorry, Clint. I love you," said Evelyn, smiling, "But you're lucky I'm one of the good guys."

Clint shrugged but didn't have a witty retort. Nick shot him a one-eyed glare. "Alright, well, I'm sure you've considered your options then."

"I have," said Evelyn, "I want to go to college, Nick. And I'm working in a program that'll really help people."

"Well, congratulations," he smiled in such a way that it was hard to tell if he was actually amused or just less grouchy than usual, "But you do know that our program is equal to any college program you care to name and we are more than willing to set up a co-credit program."

"Once I do that, my life is SHIELD's. I saw it happen with Maria. I saw it happen with Sharon, Bobbi, and to some extent, my Dad. Do you blame me for wanting to live my life for a time without that over my head?"

"I suppose that is true," grunted Nick as he surveyed her with his single eye, "I stand by what I said. You can do great things in SHIELD. We are… still very interested in someone with your abilities. You would always have a place with us."

"I'm not saying no. I'm saying give me some time." she turned to grab another piece of pizza.

"How long is some time?"

"I'm going to shoot for my bachelor's degree first. And medicine has always been interesting to me. I might go for my MD."

"That's ten years of school we're talking about." Nick griped

Evelyn took a large bite of pizza in response. Nick was upset. She felt the need to calm the water. Swallowing her pizza, she explained, "Let me start with a bachelor's degree first. I'll talk to you in four years and we'll see how it goes."

Fortunately, Nick didn't want to talk anymore on the subject. Which, thank goodness, because she didn't much like arguing this with him.

Eventually the party wound down and Clint negotiated possession of the leftovers because he was starving and couldn't cook for himself. Phil offered Anita room on the spare bed, even though she insisted she had a hotel. Phil knew. He put the room on his experience report so SHIELD would pay for it.

"I thought I would be a gentleman and ask anyway," he said.

Clint elbowed Evelyn. He muttered into into her ear in an undertone, "I'm sure being a gentleman is priority number one."

"Hush, you," she muttered in return. "Don't be rude."

"I'm just saying, I'm sure he wouldn't complain spending some extra time with her… if you know what I mean."

"Stop," she ordered.

"You don't want a mom?"

Evelyn turned, crossing her arms. "Awful presumptuous, aren't you?"

"Not at all," insisted Clint, "He likes her, it's obvious. They'd be awful cute together."

Evelyn finally conceded, "If he makes a move."

"Yeah," Clint looked over his shoulder and saw Phil awkwardly shaking hands with Anita. "But he's a real slow mover."

Evelyn followed his gaze. Her father had his hands in his pockets. Anita was laughing, possibly at something he said. They seemed to subtly lean toward each other, as if drawn by magnets.

"They both are," noted Evelyn.

Indeed, even though Anita and her father kept in contact, they didn't seem to move forward at all. It was a bit disappointing, but Evelyn figured he would move at the pace they were comfortable with. When they wanted to start actually dating instead of avoiding the subject, they would.

In the meantime, she set about enjoying her last summer of freedom. Kitty spent a fair amount of time in New York. A good many evenings were spent painting nails, watching movies, and eating less-than-nutritious food.

"I haven't seen Clint around in a while," noted Kitty as she painted flowers on Evelyn's toenails. The other girl was trying not to move but honestly the sensation of Kitty's hands cradling her feet and wiggling on her toes was making it difficult. She cleared her throat, trying desperately to keep the giggles out of her voice.

"He's on an… international squad now," she said, fighting to keep her voice even. "With Natasha."

"Good for him," said Kitty, oblivious to her friends case of the wiggles.

Evelyn didn't respond right away. Instead, she tried to do anything to distract herself from the tickling sensation of Kitty painting her nails. It was excruciating. She tried biting her lip, counting backwards from a hundred, and going through her multiplication tables to keep her mind off the faintly pleasant but overall needling, wriggling sensation along her legs. She couldn't take it. A giggle slipped from between her lips. In a second, all hell broke loose. Evelyn's foot twitched violently.

"Shit!" exclaimed Kitty as she smeared red polish across her skin. Cold, oozing paint squished between her toes. Evelyn fell backward, manic laughter erupting from her lips. "Goddamn it, Evey…"

"I'm sorry!" she gasped, "I am so super ticklish. It's not even funny!"

"Now we have to clean this up," she smiled, soaking a cotton ball with acetone. She smiled, her voice joking. "I can't take you anywhere without a mess."

"Oh come on, that's not fair," insisted Evelyn, sobering up from the giggles remarkably quick. "I'm much better. I've been specializing, working on medicine. I haven't caused a problem in a while."

"I know," muttered Kitty as she started to clean up the wrecked nails. "I'm sorry. I'm just tired. I've had a long week with figuring out college stuff."

"Yeah," Evelyn wrapped her arms around her knees, "I'm scared."

"Of college? It's no different than being up at Xavier's

"Maybe," Evelyn conceded. Honestly, she couldn't put her finger on exactly what had her troubled. Perhaps it was some mix of situations so tangled that finding her line of thought was a nearly impossible task.

A few days later, she realized it was about time to start boxing things up for her impending move. She was stalling. Not only did it seem like a nearly impossible task to pack everything away, there was an odd sense of finality to it. As if doing so would acknowledge the presence of the five hundred pound gorilla in the room.

When she pulled the plastic tubs down from the hall closet, one of them was stuck and wouldn't move. Frustrated, she yanked at it, trying to jerk it free by force. When she found there was no way to dislodge the bin without causing damage by virtue of her strength, she conceded defeat and dragged the step stool over. The bins had gotten stuck against what looked like a book.

Frowning, Evelyn worked the hardcover book out from under the bin. It was a bit wider than it was tall and heavy for its size. She turned it over a few times, looking for some indication of what it was but there was no writing anywhere on the navy blue cover or the worn brown binding. When she flipped open the pages, it was full of faded photos of people she didn't know. Frowning, she walked into the kitchen, turning the book over and over in her hands.

"Dad," she said, holding up the battered book when she walked into the kitchen, "What is this?"

He sipped his coffee and paused from the paper, "An album."

"I sort of gathered that," she said, rolling her eyes at his evasiveness, "Why was it hidden?"

"I hid it," he said softly, "And I know I shouldn't have kept it. Nick would be pissed if he knew. When we went off the grid when you were a toddler, they made me turn in anything that might relate back to our prior life. It is dangerous information to have around. I just couldn't bear to… to part with everything."

"So, what is it?" asked Evelyn, flipping through the yellowed pages.

"Family album," said Phil, walking around to place the book on the kitchen counter and open the aging pages. "Some stuff from when I was a kid."

"Really?" Evelyn knew some of her father's past but actually not that much. She met a few aunts and uncles when she was very young but most of them lived in St Louis or somewhere far away like that. If they visited, it was incredibly rare. They were also very old and she wasn't even sure all of them were alive anymore.

"This is your grandmother," he said, tapping the photo on the first page, "My mother. This photo had to have been taken before Dad died because she's smiling."

"What happened?"

"With my dad?"

"Yeah."

Phil bit his lip for a long moment before continuing, "He, uh, he was hit by a car. I was twelve. I saw it happen. He was leaving work at the auto body shop and we lived only about a block away. He was crossing the road right in front of our house and this black car was coming right at him… swerving all over the place and going way too fast. And it hit him and drove off. We don't know who did it or why or anything. As far as we know, it was just a random hit-and-run, possibly by a drunk driver. He lived for a few more days before dying of complications with internal injuries."

"Oh, Dad."

Phil sighed. It had been years since he thought about the accident. If at all possible, he preferred to think about happier memories. "My mother took it the hardest. Without dad, we had nobody to support the family. She went back to work as a telephone operator but that didn't last long because she couldn't stop grieving. She never learned how to work her way past the tragedy. And, unfortunately, she was like that until the day she died. Breast cancer. And that was back in the days when getting cancer was almost a death sentence. There wasn't much to be done. I got a job delivering eggs for a local farm. That kept us going. Later on, I joined the army so I could get paid more and keep the family afloat."

Evelyn felt her eyes getting warm as she watched Phil's fingers trace the faded black-and-white photograph. Mrs. Coulson was beautiful with light colored, softly curled hair, shimmering movie-star eyes, and bow lips. She was wearing a simple housewife dress decorated with tiny flowers, covered by a white apron. She sat at the kitchen table, smiling at something or someone out of frame. She looked like an image right out of a Betty Crocker cookbook.

Overwhelmed with nostalgia, Phil turned the page. Another photo was sloppily pasted onto the page and clumsily labelled "June 1962- BBQ" in a handwriting that Evelyn did not recognize. Mrs. Coulson was there, wearing a similar dress but the now color photograph revealed it as blue with tiny polka dots. She was also without her apron and wearing a straw hat over sandy colored hair.

"This is your grandpa," said Phil, tapping the man in the photograph, "Major Coulson. He was in the army during World War Two. Didn't serve alongside Captain America, but he was a fan. Met him once while he was in Chicago before heading out to the Pacific."

He was tall, strong looking, and very neat. He wore a pale blue shirt and pressed khaki pants. His arm was around his wife's waist and they were both smiling toward the camera. It was obvious they were in love, just the way they leaned into each other and the way their eyes seemed to drift toward each other. It was hard, in her limited experience, for Evelyn to wrap her mind around the idea of loving someone so much that losing them hurt to the point of being inconsolable.

"He looks like you," smiled Evelyn, trying to dismiss the tight feeling that settled in her chest.

"The hair?" laughed Phil, noticing that his father was also starting to bald when the photo was taken and he was becoming very sensitive about his own hairline.

Evelyn humored him by smiling before she replied, "Your eyes."

Phil wrapped an arm around his daughter and gave a slight squeeze. He flipped the page. There were more family members, distant aunts and uncles. All of them had beautiful eyes. But one in particular was especially striking.

"This is my sister, Janey" he introduced, flipping the page to reveal a full page photograph. Janey Coulson had shoulder-length blond hair in glamorous waves. She had her mother's eyes, large and innocent, a warm shade of baby blue. Her cheeks were charmingly dimpled and her smile was like a summer day. By any definition, she was beautiful, the sort of face that belonged on an old Hollywood movie poster..

"She was," Phil shrugged, "Well, we don't know what she was. She was a bit slow. I think probably today it would be called dyslexia or autism or something like that. In the 60's, we didn't know much about any of that so she was never diagnosed as anything. She didn't do well in school, but she loved fashion. I would… I would save up the tips I got delivering eggs and doing other odd jobs and I would take her into town. There was a salon there that our mother would go to and I would buy Janey nail polish or makeup or whatever she wanted. After a while, she started making her own money by cutting hair and doing makeup and stuff for the girls at school. Eventually she saved up to go to beauty school."

"What happened to her?"

"She's…" Phil had to swallow the lump in his throat before continuing, "She's great. She is working as a personal fashion assistant to Kim Basinger."

"Who?"

"The gal from… from LA Confidential."

"I haven't seen it yet."

"Oh, uh… the girl in Batman."

"Really?

"Yeah."

"How come I haven't met her?" asked Evelyn carefully.

Phil swallowed. He looked down at his hands for a long moment. In the background, the clock ticked in the kitchen, each click sounding impossibly loud in her ears. "There was a mission. And it went badly. Janey was used as leverage to attempt to manipulate me and the team I was leading. Fortunately, we were able to neutralize the target before she was physically harmed but the event absolutely traumatized her. So we... her husband, SHIELD, and myself... decided that we needed to do something to help her get back to her life. Therapy and medication weren't working. We needed something else. So… we decided to try this brand new, very experimental mind-wiping technique. It basically introduced a global amnesia and then we could re-introduce events that we wanted her to remember. So, we reintroduced everything except for me and the family and anything about the event. But that also meant that I could never make contact with her again… at the risk of her remembering."

Evelyn was quiet for a long moment, staring down at the photo album. Phil flipped the page and revealed a wedding photo. The girl in the photo, Janey, was smiling widely, blushing and beautiful on her wedding day. She was gorgeous. The dress was outdated, clearly showing its age with the shiny fabric and the puffy sleeves, and the enormous veil of thick antique lace. But she was holding onto her husband like it was all she wanted in the world. Next to it was a much younger version of her dad and a few other people she didn't know. The girls were dressed in powder blue, matching the men's ties. There were white and pink roses everywhere. It looked like a beautiful day.

Phil cleared his throat, "I'm not proud of what happened. I wish there was something else that could have been done. But it was either this or put her in a mental institute, possibly for the rest of her life. Neither one of those options sat well with me. But at least this way she has a chance to live a happy life. Even if I could never see her again."

She put her arms around his shoulders and hugged him. Phil leaned against her. Going back over memories weren't always a happy business. He had been keen on avoiding some of the difficult aspects of his memory.

"I wish there was another way," he bemoaned. "I wish I could introduce you. She loved kids. She would have spoiled you rotten."

"Did she have any of her own?"

"Three. Two girls and a boy. They're… they're cute kids. I've had people check up on her and make sure she's happy. Make sure nothing triggered."

Evelyn took a deep breath before continuing, "Why did you wait this long to tell me about them?"

Phil shook his head, "When you were very little, I did it because I wasn't sure you would understand. And, I'll admit, I was still very… ashamed… about what happened with Janey. I'm not happy about it even to this day, but it was still fresh in my mind when I adopted you. I didn't know how to talk about it. I couldn't even talk about it to Nick or Maria. It's taken years to get to a point where I can have a real discussion about it. And by the time that happened, we were off the grid and I wasn't sure how to bring it up to you. I figured… if you found out, I would tell you. And you found out. I...I've been sort of dreading this day, actually."

"I understand," she said, her eyes still glossing over the old photographs.

"If I had to do it again," said Phil, reaching over to touch the yellowing page, as though he could reconnect with that bygone day, "I don't know if I would make the same decision. I don't know what I would do."

"You did your best," whispered Evelyn, touching his hand, "Who can blame you for that?"

"Well, I've blamed myself plenty" he admitted, "she's the last of my biological family and… without her, I had nobody."

Evelyn was quiet for a moment. The weight of sorrow pressed against her chest. In a moment, she never felt more intensely alone.

"You have me," she whispered, almost trying to reassure herself as much as she was reassuring her father. To her relief, he put his arms around her and pulled her close to his chest.

"I know."

They were silent for a long moment before he spoke again. "I need to ask you something."

"Anything," she said.

"Would it be awful if I applied for active duty?"

Evelyn paused, "What brought this on?"

"Well," he said, pulling out of the hug so he could look her in the eye. "You're going to college. You don't need me here every hour of every day. I won't be quite as active as Clint since I have seniority, but I might have to go outside the country on missions for a few days a month. Would you be okay with that?"

Evelyn paused to think. She was not about to keep him from his job. It mattered to him. But some part of her yearned to be selfish and hold him close to her for all time. She dismissed the childish part of her that tried to cling too tightly even though it felt like some kind of betrayal. To whom, she did not know.

"Dad, I know how much your work means to you. I know you like being in the field. Just, please, for me… be careful."

"I'm not going to be in danger, Evelyn. I won't be in combat. Just taking an occasional trip out of town for business," he smiled, ruffling her hair, "I'm not leaving my girl high and dry."

Evelyn paused, the wheels in her head turning. "If you do that, can you do me a favor?"

"What sort of favor?" asked Phil suspiciously.

"Make time to go to Portland, and see Anita."

Phil laughed, "Are you and Clint trying to 'Parent Trap' me?"

"I had no idea he spoke to you on the subject."

"Yes, well, he made his point abundantly clear."

"I'm sure he did," Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Hear me out, though. You've never been to Portland. You've never seen her work or anything. Call it a… professional courtesy? Just dropping by? I don't know, you can figure out the words."

Phil cast a dubious glance over his daughter. But her intentions seemed pure enough so he nodded. "If… and only _if_ … I happen to be over that way, I will drop by and do lunch… or something."

"That's all I'm asking," she said, the picture of innocence.

Evelyn spent the next few days packing her things away in boxes and bags in preparation for the upcoming move. She tucked her Captain America doll in her memory box with some photos. She would take him with her, of course. They had already been through four schools together, countless days of homework and every major holiday for the past fourteen years. He was her good luck charm. And he reminded her of her dad. Maybe she would worry less about him if she kept Cap near, she reasoned, although she knew that was not the case.

Already her father was working later to attend briefings and mission planning. There were more than a few nights as summer wound down which consisted of dinner for one and a movie, or talking Kitty's ear off over the phone and eating up her minutes.

Already the nights were becoming slightly chill. Steel wool clouds lingered over the east and threatened a cold, wet fall. Sweatshirts and jackets became high fashion for the season. The leaves in the park were tinged with red and gold but still mostly green, at least for the time being.

One night, her father was especially late getting home. Usually, this was only mildly concerning but for some reason, intuition tugged at her gut. She split her time between flipping through channels on TV to find the least crappy show to watch and doing whatever mindless busy work she could conjure up.

Finally, she heard the bolt slide and the door swing open. Racing toward the door, Evelyn was stuck by a blast of cold air.

"It's freezing out there," muttered Phil as he shut the door behind him. It took him a moment to realize something was odd. "You're up late," He breathed as he embraced her.

Evelyn suddenly felt foolish for worrying about something as silly as her father running late. It could have just been bad traffic. She fibbed, "Couldn't sleep. Restless."

He nodded, "Helluva day."

"What happened?"

"Well, something tripped an alarm at one of our old outposts in the Northern Territories. Usually when this happens it is just a caribou or a bear or something but we have to go and check anyway. So they sent Clint and Natasha."

"I bet Clint was happy for the time with her."

"I think he would enjoy it more if they didn't end up getting their sorry asses chased by a bear. Clint fell through the ice. Fortunately he activated one of his tracking arrows and Natasha dragged him out of the water. We were able get a jet out there to pick him out before he froze. He's is in the infirmary right now on the west coast carrier."

She grabbed his satellite phone and dialed his number. It rang a few times until she realized she heard the steady beeping of his heart monitor, "Clint…?" she asked hesitantly.

"Hey Evey." He sounded tired but alert. She felt a surge of anger in her chest.

"Clinton Francis Barton!" Evelyn snarled over the phone, "If you die of hypothermia, I will kill you!"

Phil's eyebrows shot up in surprise to see his daughter go from timid to tyrant in twenty seconds flat.

"Francis?" she heard someone in the background mutter.

"Shut up," hissed Clint over toward them, "I'm sorry. It was a bit preoccupied by not getting mauled by a polar bear. It's just a bit of chill."

"Just a bit of chill? _Just a bit of chill_? Are you _completely_ out of your mind, you corn-fed hick? I don't care if all your fingers turn black and fall off! The worst is that you won't be able to fire a bow. I _do_ care if your heart stops due to cold and I'm not there to jump-start your cells!"

"Evey…" Phil and Clint said in unison. She ignored her dad's diplomatic warning.

"Damnit, Clint! Whatever it is, it isn't worth dying over!"

"Evey! It's not my fault there was a bear!"

"I don't care about the stinking bear!"

Evelyn felt hot tears dripping down her cheeks. She didn't like the idea of a friend dying, even if it was a horny punk kid from Iowa. She wiped her eyes angrily.

"I care too much, you colossal asshole. If you die, I don't know what I'd do," insisted Evelyn.

"Evelyn," whispered Clint over the phone, "Please… listen…"

"Don't. Don't tell me it was for the greater good. I don't want to hear it."

"I'm a full time, international, SHIELD agent now," he said, ignoring her, "There are things that matter just a little more than me. This is a big step, Evey. I've never had anything to really fight for up to now."

Evelyn sighed into the phone darkly.

"Look," said Clint in response, "You don't tell your dad to stop doing his job just because he might get hurt."

"I know he will be careful."

"Evey. I promise I will be careful for you. I don't want to die either. But… I have a job now. I love this job and it is an important one."

"Don't die, Clint. Be careful...Please."

He sighed, "I will. I'll be home in a few days, okay? Then you can kick my ass."

When Clint was sure Evelyn was fine he ended the call, promising to check in when he could.

Evelyn pressed her phone to her forehead, taking a deep breath, "I suppose I should be proud of him."

Phil shrugged a shoulder, "I am."

She side-eyed him with a sharp look that made Phil actually a little terrified, "Don't give him any ideas."


	26. Pt 3 Ch 1: Student Life

Aaron was the exhausted-looking RA for her dorm. He had tightly curled blond hair and a starburst of pale freckles behind ill-fitting gold wire glasses that constantly slipped down his nose. Purple bags started to form under his pool blue eyes. He wore a faded school t-shirt and blue jeans as he handed over the dorm keys and explained the rules.

"So the dorms are coed?" said Phil, looking dubiously over the paperwork.

"Yes, but we have rules," explained Aaron in a bored tone, like he was thoroughly _done_ with trying to explain this to parents, "Doors must be left open when members of the opposite gender are inside the room and residents can only visit members of the opposite gender during specific visiting hours. Otherwise, they can hang out in the common areas to their heart's content. There will be no… shenanigans."

Phil nodded, but he maintained a healthy amount of skepticism. When he was in SHIELD training, they were supposed to be separated and unable to bring girls back to the dorms but that didn't mean they didn't. In fact, it wasn't unusual for agents to outright flaunt the rules in front of their SO.

"Evelyn," he warned, "I'm expecting you to follow the rules."

"Trust me," she said, unlocking the door to her new home, "Judging by my class schedule for this semester, I'm not going to have time to think about breaking the rules."

Phil couldn't argue with that. They met with the head of the department about an hour ago to set up her coursework. Fortunately, she had some high school classes which counted for college credit but it wasn't nearly enough to start making a dent on the pre-med track. On top of her work in the lab for mutant research, she was going to be an exceptionally busy young lady.

"Well," he said, "I just need to remind you. Fatherly duty and all."

She smiled and pushed the door open, "Thanks, Dad."

The dorm room was small but not terribly so. It was certainly more living space than the spartan accommodations at SHIELD boot camp. It came with two twin beds, two dressers, two cabinets, and two desks made out of a light-colored cheap wood. There was also a single phone landline for the roommates to share but Evelyn communicated mostly via cell phone so the landline could potentially fall into her roommate's care. The cerulean blue carpets were a bit worn but not really damaged. Ivory walls were clean but not without a few nicks and scrapes where the former residents dragged furniture across the paint.

"Looks nice enough," said Phil, glancing around the space.

"It's not bad," replied Evelyn, setting down the three plastic tubs she was carrying, "But it's not home."

Phil opened one of the boxes, the lid coming off with a pop. "Let's see if we can start making this place a little bit more comfortable for you."

Slowly, the room began to take shape. Evelyn tucked her purple sheets into her bed while her father set up her desk with fresh paper, pens, and a hand-me-down desk lamp donated by Bobbi. As she hung up her clothes and set up the comfy butterfly chair, Evelyn started to feel more at home in her surroundings.

"Thanks for helping me move in, Dad. I know this took you away from work."

"Don't worry about it," said Phil as he pulled a pillow from a black plastic bag and tossed it on her chair, "I needed a break. Nick was upset I wasn't using any of my vacation days."

"Why on earth wouldn't you use your vacation days?" asked Evelyn with a laugh as she popped open another box.

"Is it really fair of me to take a vacation in the middle of an alien invasion? Or mutant rioting?"

"I guess I understand that," admitted Evelyn, "But what are you going to do for the rest of your vacation?"

"I dunno. Tahiti?"

"Be serious, Dad."

"I am," said Phil, "I wouldn't mind the idea of going off to a nice beach for a few days. I haven't been to Tahiti either."

"For real?"

"Sure."

"Well," smiled Evelyn as she put some of her brand-new textbooks on the little shelf of the desk, "I was hoping you would go to Portland but…"

"You have already made your point," Phil cut in, neutering the conversation.

"Alright, just reminding you of your promise."

"Sure," Phil smiled at his daughter, "I will call and let you know when I am going. If for no other reason, to keep you and Clint from harassing me."

"We're just looking out for you," insisted Evelyn, the picture of innocence.

"Right," he stood and looked around the space. It was a bit more familiar now that her blankets were on the bed, the clothes were in the closet, and things were put away. "Where's your roommate?"

"Dunno. Aaron said she hasn't checked in yet. I just know her name is," she checked the paper with the room information, "Laura Gallegos. I don't know anything about her other than that."

"Hm," hummed Phil thoughtfully as he checked his watch, "We have a bit of time before you have orientation meetings. Do you want to grab lunch?"

Evelyn smiled, "Yeah."

They found a small Chinese restaurant with a giant fish tank full of koi in the front window less than a block away. The food was fine, nothing special. But if ever she just wanted a bowl of orange chicken for cheap, this may be the place for it.

"So, when are you flying out?"

"For Portland? I don't know. I really didn't have plans."

Evelyn shook her head, "I meant for Tahiti. But I can tell what's on your mind."

Phil felt his ears grow a bit warm. "I, uh, really didn't have plans for that either. You know, regardless of where I am going, I will need a bit of time to plan."

"Don't take too long, or you'll never do it."

"Don't worry, I won't," he promised between bites of fried rice. Evelyn contemplated giving him a hard time about the fact he was blushing, but decided he had been teased enough. She instead slurped her chow mein noodles. Phil spoke up. "It would be a very welcome vacation, given the mutant riots."

"Magneto again?"

"Yeah," muttered Phil, "and the Hellfire Club. They're both a huge handful on their own. When they are both acting up…"

"Are they working together?"

"Not that our intelligence has uncovered," said Phil as he poked at the General Tso chicken, "But it's not out of the question. Anyway, that is not something we want to have to deal with right now and we want to keep it that way."

"Be careful."

"We are," reassured Phil, "Don't worry."

"I'm still going to worry anyway."

"I know." Phil put down the cheap wood chopsticks. "You know, you may worry about me too much."

Evelyn reached over to grab the soy sauce for her rice. "Oh, really?"

"I took care of myself for some time before you came along. And I raised you all by myself."

"Still, your cooking skills are just barely above Clint's," she sassed good-naturedly, a smile flickering across her lips.

"I have never once, in the entire time I raised you, stooped to Top Ramen for a meal," said Phil proudly, "Maybe dinner was frozen chicken nuggets but I made sure the chicken was real."

They made their way back to campus. Phil had to drop by the Business Office to finalize a few things regarding her school account, but Evelyn wanted to see if her new roommate had arrived yet. Happily, she saw the door to the dorm room open when she entered the floor. A maze of cardboard boxes blocked most of the doorway. She took long strides to maneuver around them and attempt to find her new roommate.

The girl standing among the cardboard boxes had bleached blond hair with mousy brown roots and it was meticulously straightened so it looked a bit like uncooked spaghetti. Her eyes were sandy brown and ringed with dark makeup. Her eyebrows were thin and too dark for the yellow blonde she dyed her hair. She wore Pink sweatpants from Victoria's Secret and a tight white shirt. In truth, she was a bit awkward to look at, like most of her was painted on.

"I assume you're Laura," said Evelyn, her mind trying to piece together the image in front of her.

"Yah," she said, cracking her gum, "You're Evelyn?"

"Yeah, nice to meet you," she offered a hand. Laura didn't take it.

She turned her head toward Evelyn's bed, "So you called dibs?"

"Ah," Evelyn awkwardly dropped her hand, "Yeah. Sorry, did you want that side?"

She rolled her eyes, cracking her gum again, "Well, yah, everyone knows the east side is the best side."

Evelyn felt her heart sink. She went to so much effort to set up her bed so that she felt comfortable. Now she would have to go and move, or risk fighting it out with the person she had to live with for the next nine months.

"I guess I can move," she conceded, trying to be accommodating for the sake of not causing trouble.

"Oh my Gawd," snickered Laura, "I'm just teasin' ya. Jesus, I don't even know if that's east."

Evelyn furrowed her brows. It was hard to tell what it was about Laura that was pushing her buttons in exactly the wrong way. Whatever it was, it made her miss Kitty terribly.

"I hope you don't mind. I have lotsa posters and shit," said Laura, as if nothing happened.

In comparison to Laura gargantuan pile of boxes, Evelyn's accommodations looked sparse. She muttered, "I don't mind."

Laura cracked her gum again. Evelyn hoped that wasn't a habit. Laura was pulling out boxes upon boxes of plastic containers from the larger cardboard box. It seemed like the piles would never end.

"So," asked Evelyn, trying to be conversational, "What are you majoring in?"

"Business admin," said Laura as she stacked Tupperware containers filled with makeup and nail polish on her desk. "I already work as an Avon consultant. So if you want anything, let me know. I would be _so_ happy to give you a deal."

Evelyn was secretly relieved Laura wasn't in pre-med with her. She had a distinct impression that the time they spent in this dorm room was going to be as much as she could handle. At least she could have solace in the lab. Normally, she would have asked her if she needed help and took the time for a little bit of bonding. But she had the distinct impression that she and Laura were going to have plenty of time together. She made her excuses and left to find her father and say her goodbyes.

"How's the roommate?" asked Phil when she drew into view.

Evelyn fought against the bitter, bile flavor in the back of her mouth. "This is going to be interesting."

Phil considered her for a moment, "Be sure to let Aaron know if you need a roommate change."

Evelyn didn't want to think about it, but it seemed very likely she would be putting in that request. She shook her head and promised herself to give it a fair chance. "We'll see. It could just be a bad first impression."

"Call if you need me," requested Phil.

"Believe me, I will," said Evelyn.

They stood there, looking into each other's eyes for a long second. Evelyn felt like something in her was breaking. Little cracks began to spread along her chest, shattering her heart.

"I guess… it's time," said Phil.

"Yeah," muttered Evelyn.

She stood for a moment longer before allowing herself to fall into her father's arms. He was warm, comfortable, familiar. She would always be home here. When their embrace dissipated and they went their separate ways, she felt a bit cold. She would get used to the absence but it wouldn't be easy… not nearly as easy as being with the X-men and seeing Kitty's warm smile and cheerful eyes.

She wasn't the only one having a hard time adjusting. Maria found herself having to hunt down Phil and figure out where exactly he got to come Monday morning.

"Phil?"

Maria knocked on the door to his office but there wasn't any response. Normally, she would just assume Phil was out of the office or in a meeting. It wasn't odd, especially since he had a lot to catch up on now that he was back in the field. But it still seemed a bit strange. As a rule, she didn't subscribe to gut feelings and intuition. Feelings could be manipulated. Action should be based off of concrete realities. Still, she felt a press against her chest. Something was not quite right. Going against her better judgement, she turned the doorknob.

As it turned out, Phil's office was not locked and she could walk right in. Phil was sitting at his desk, quietly looking at a framed photo with a distant look in his eye. It was a small, nondescript gold colored frame that could be purchased at any old store. Behind a pane of glass, a five year old Evelyn clutched her Captain America doll. Her wild red hair was pulled into twin pigtails, each tied with a little purple ribbon. Her top bicuspid was missing so her childish smile looked like a jack-o-lantern.

"Phil?"

"Hi," he said clearly off guard, straightening up quickly, and attempting to discreetly wipe one eye, "What's up?"

"Fury wanted to know if you could confirm you as his 'plus one' for the seminar with NORAD at the end of next month. They need to know in advance so they can get you clearance at Cheyenne Mountain."

"Uh… I guess, yes. Why didn't he send this in an e-mail?"

"He did. Three days ago. When he didn't receive a response, he was slightly concerned."

"Shoot," hissed Phil, "I… must have missed that when I was away this weekend. Sorry."

"It's not a problem. It just requires confirmation. How was the weekend, by the way?"

"Fine," said Phil, "Evey is all moved in, "No complaints that I know of. Her roommate is… interesting but, you know, she can handle herself."

"You don't appear to be convinced of that."

"It's her first time on her own… and she's so far away," said Phil quickly, as though he had been holding this in all weekend. "I worry that now she has a chance to go away, she will never come back."

"She came back from the X-men."

"Well, sure. But she was still really young. I think she still needed me a bit. She was a child who needed her father. Now she doesn't need me and it feels weird," he paused to consider it. "Is this normal?"

"Sure," shrugged Maria, "It's how fathers are supposed to feel."

"I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to be doing," admitted Phil, "I wish there was someone I could talk to about this but... you know. What... what was your dad like?"

"He hated me," said Maria honestly, without batting an eyelash, "My mother died shortly after I was born and he blamed me for killing her. So, when I was sixteen, I jumped on a plane to Madripoor and never looked back."

Phil was quiet for a very long moment. Maria didn't seem to be perturbed at the fact she dropped a megaton bomb of knowledge. As a matter of fact, it seemed absolutely ridiculous that they should have known each other as long as they had and he never knew this about her life. He was left blinking, trying to wrap his mind around what he heard.

"I'm sorry."

"If you think I'm bitter at him about how things turned out, I'm not. I learned how to take care of myself... sort of to show him just how wrong he was. The old... mule wouldn't be satisfied with anything that I did. But, I figure, screw him. I'm doing a damn good job."

"You are. Still, a father is supposed to be there for his daughter."

"And you're doing a good job of that, Phil. Believe me. If you ever you aren't, I will be the first to tell you." Maria handed him a file, "Get back to Fury. He's getting worried about your lack of response."

"Yeah. I will. I need to give Evelyn a call first."

"Don't you dare," ordered Maria, crossing her arms.

"I just want to see if she's doing okay."

It was all Maria could do not to smack her hand to her forehead in dismay, "You know she is busy. You're not doing her any favors by constantly calling."

Phil sighed, "Yeah, I guess."

"If you are going to call someone, call Anita."

"You too, huh?" Phil said, crossing his arms defensively across his chest.

"Why not?"

"I dunno," said Phil. "Why do you care?"

"You're kidding, right? I'm a friend looking out for you. You haven't seen any women since Evey was a kid."

"Because I haven't had time!"

"You have time now, don't you?" she said, sensing she hit on her advantage, "And if you two don't go anywhere, fine. But you won't know until you try. You know I'm right."

The conversation weighed heavily on his mind when he came home from work and again the next morning. He itched to pick up his phone, to take the advice of everyone around him and make the call. He was stalling but he couldn't quite figure out why. It was a phone call, nothing else. Anita was likely curious how Evelyn was settling in… yeah, that would work.

He pulled his cell from his pocket and began entering the digits he knew by heart. Fortunately, there was an answer.

"Hello?"

"Anita, hi," he found himself smiling, "How are you?"

"Too early to tell, I'm just now making breakfast," she admitted.

Phil could have slapped his hand to his face as his stupidity dawned on him. For as long as he worked international missions, it was absolutely foolish of him to forget the west coast was three hours behind.

"Did I wake you?" he asked sheepishly.

"No, I'm usually awake by now anyway," her smile was almost audible through the phone. "I just thought I would remind you."

"Thanks," chuckled Phil.

"How's Evelyn settling down? College treating her well?"

Phil found himself enjoying the conversation. Anita was fixing herself breakfast as he talked and he could hear the faint clink of dishes in the background. She talked about her family, her work, the orchestra, and her cat. Phil listened and talked about work when she asked, as much as he could tell her anyway. As they spoke, the apartment felt less empty. The absence of Evelyn didn't go unnoticed, but a different presence started to make a home. It was different, but nice. He decided, that he could get used to this.


	27. Pt 3 Ch 2: Night Shift

"Alright everyone," said Professor McKenzie, stepping up to the podium at the front of the room. He was a somewhat portly fellow. He had a mess of white-blond hair atop his head, mussed to disguise his balding. He was clean shaven, but from the side it was easy to see where he missed a spot. "Here is the skinny. We are doing something highly controversial. We have had issues with vandalism and staff getting harassed so this team is top secret for your protection. The roster of students and staff involved is not published in the directory. We don't have a landline or e-mail. All our records are kept in a place which is none of your business. The front doors have a key card checkpoint and parts have biometric locks. If you can't get in, you aren't supposed to be there. Period. We are on lockdown as long as you are in this lab."

It was a bit surprising to find that her workplace was second only to the Triskelion in terms of security. But at the same time, it all seemed reasonable. The project was not without controversy and she had seen firsthand what anti-mutant protesters were like. She took her new pass card and her assignment sheet from Professor McKenzie and began to read.

The freshman crew was a batch of twenty students divided into four groups. The groups were given responsibilities, most of them fairly menial tasks, to be completed and signed off on by the end of each week. It wasn't much, but it was a start. If they stuck with it, they might be assigned to work with one of the research projects. Even though there was a lot of busy work, they could also reserve a spot in the labs and work on their own projects. Evelyn liked that best of all.

Her lab partner had pretty dark olive skin with a sun kissed golden glow. She was short and a bit chubby but light on her feet. Sleek black hair was pulled up into a red woven headband. She wore no makeup, but that was standard for the lab. There was too much of a risk of an errant fume reacting with something on your face. It didn't matter much, as she was still pretty, with exotic sepia eyes and full lips. She wore a kelly green lab jacket adorned with thousands of tiny ladybugs.

"I'm Penelope," she said, extending a hand. Her voice had a slight accent, but Evelyn was finding it hard to place.

"Evelyn," she introduced herself.

"Nice to meet you."

"Same."

"So, reagents," said Penelope, looking into the cart of brown glass bottles which needed to be restocked, "I'll take the bottom tray if you take the top."

"Sounds good," agreed Evelyn, picking up the tray and examining the labels on the bottles. They were doing grunt work: organizing, cleaning, and refilling. But it was a start. If they did a good job, they might be able to move on up to actually helping with trails. After all, she signed up for four years of this.

"So, are you from around here?" asked Penelope.

"I'm from New York," said Evelyn, "What about you?"

"I'm from the Phillipines. But I've lived in San Diego for the past twelve years."

So that explained the accent. "What are you studying?"

"Chemical engineering. You?"

"Pre-med," exchanged Evelyn, "So how did you end up in the mutant lab?"

Penelope shrugged a shoulder. "My niece is a mutant. Actually, she is part of the reason why we came to America."

Evelyn's ears perked up, "Really?"

"We lived in a very small town in the Philippines. People there were scared of her. She had to stay inside, away from other people. Here in America, there are people who can help her live a normal life."

Evelyn nodded, thinking of Anita. "I understand. I have some very good friends who work with mutants."

Penelope looked interested, "Really?"

Evelyn wasn't sure how much she wanted to talk about with her co-workers. Granted, they were all here because they shared a passion for mutants and assisting them. She had already seen four people around the labs who had very obvious mutations. But, she didn't feel quite ready to discuss her personal life with these strangers. Maybe eventually, but right now everything was too new.

After a week or so on the job, Evelyn felt very comfortable working around the labs. Her and Penelope got along well. It was nice to work with someone she actually liked.

Her roommate, however…

She didn't want to jump to conclusions but Laura was out almost every night. Not that Evelyn was much better, her shifts at the lab sometimes ran until eight or nine o'clock. She would make the short walk home and collapse into bed, only to wake up the next morning to cram in homework before class.

There was about a fifty-fifty chance if Laura would be in bed or not. Sometimes she would hurry in at seven or eight o'clock the next morning, still wearing last night's dress.

"It's Greek week," she explained when the subject came up, "All the local frats and sororities have parties to attract pledges."

"Are you thinking of joining?"

"Oh hell no," Laura snapped as she took off makeup from the night before, "Do you have any idea how much shit you have to go to for that? What with the volunteering and the parades and the smiling and the blech! No thanks! I just know a couple people and they invited me to parties."

Evelyn suspected those people might be boys but she didn't want to assume. It did seem highly suspicious, if nothing else.

"I thought you were out at some of them," noted Laura as she peeled off fake eyelashes, "You know, since you're out late too."

"Uh, no," said Evelyn, trying to keep the amusement out of her voice. "I work late shifts. I don't have much time for parties."

"Well, you should try. Good way to meet people. Good way to meet guys," said Laura as she finished up the process of removing makeup.

"Yeah," muttered Evelyn absently. She was fairly confident that was not going to happen. For one, she didn't know anyone at the parties. For two, she doubted Laura would introduce her. For three, she was not sure she was exactly welcome as the nerdy girl with weird electricity abilities.

Besides, she was really growing comfortable in the labs. Also the free time with the science equipment was a huge plus. It made homework much easier, for one. It also reminded her of when she had free run of the labs with Hank and he encouraged her to experiment and build.

One particular night, after their mandatory work was done, Evelyn was working on homework. They were studying molarity in her chemistry class, which actually corresponded nicely with a project one of the researchers requested her help for. She needed to measure out different concentrations of different solutions. It was simple math. Hank had her doing it back when she was his assistant.

The bad news was that the scale she was using was definitely broken. It was time for her to figure out what had it out of order since smacking the tare button didn't seem to be helping.

"Is there a screwdriver around here somewhere?" asked Evelyn, poking her head into the next room where Penelope was working on her own project.

Her lab partner looked up from the fume hood in confusion, "What do you need that for?"

"Well," she felt awkward explaining herself, "I need to… adjust the scales. They're out of balance."

Penelope closed the hood, "Have you ever done it before?"

"Sure," she said, "I worked with the old lab equipment sometimes back in school, trying to figure out how it worked."

She had fond memories of her X-men days, when Hank would show her how the different pieces of equipment worked and how to fix it. He liked to try to keep equipment in top condition and do as many repairs himself rather than buying all new things. It was an invaluable education.

"Really?" Penelope smiled, "And you're pre-med? You should look into medical engineering."

"What does a medical engineer do?"

Penelope shrugged a shoulder, "I think it focuses more on the equipment used in medical procedures, like building x-rays and things."

"Huh," she pondered the idea. It could be interesting. She hadn't really tried to be an engineer. But the idea wasn't a bad one. Maybe she had to explore that possibility.

In all honesty, she never considered herself much of an engineer. She took a basic programming class at Midtown High and it was alright. She wasn't bad at it but she also didn't have much use for it. The school also had a robotics team, one of the few in the country. She might have considered joining if her work with SHIELD hadn't taken up so much time.

All in all, as she packed up her stuff at the end of her shift and bid Penelope farewell, she decided she needed to look into the idea. Maybe she hadn't given engineering enough of a chance. And if medical engineering was an actual major, she could see herself in that role. If not as a major, then maybe as a minor.

She made a mental note to ask about it the next time she met with her advisor and walked into the autumn evening. The spindly fall branches reached toward a harvest moon, orange as a jack-o-lantern. The pale golden light cast eerie shadows across the pavement. A chilly wind snuck between buildings, creeping like a ghost. Evelyn pulled her scarf up so it covered the bottom of her chin and she could feel the warmth of her breath meet the chill of the night. A tiny puff of air swirled in front of her eyes, curling like smoke. The dorms were not far from the lab so it was no trouble to walk but if it became terribly cold over the winter, it may become a nuisance. For the time being, however, it wasn't that bad.

The streets criss-crossing the college were somewhat quiet this evening, only a few headlights pierced the night. Evelyn made her way from streetlight to streetlight, avoiding the dark as much as possible. But someone caused her to stop and take notice. A shadow moved in the dark crease of an alley between narrow brick apartment buildings. Her instincts sent her on high alert. As she leaned into the darkness, she could see a couple of figures silhouetted against the glow of a flashlight. One figure was leaning partly out of a first story window and holding a large box. Another man was standing on the ground and helping him move the box out of the building through the window.

"Shut up," one of them snapped, "You're gonna get us caught."

"You shut up," another hissed in return, "Go and check the bedroom, see if anything is in there."

Evelyn was frozen for a second, trying to piece together what she was seeing. It looked like they were breaking and entering but she couldn't be sure. For the life of her, she couldn't think of another explanation for the scene. She could feel her muscles tensing up, ready for action.

"Hey!" she yelled, her voice echoing among the tall brick walls. She was shocked at her own boldness but her brain didn't seem to register what exactly she was doing.

One of the shadows jumped and the box they were holding fell onto a dumpster with a thud and a crash. It sounded like glass breaking. She hoped it was nothing important.

"Shit," muttered one of the men, his voice echoing in the cramped space.

"Shut up," hissed one of his fellows, "We're just moving it. It's not big deal."

"Bullshit," returned Evelyn. She actually didn't know that, but she tested a guess anyway. Her heart felt fluttery and nervous.

One of the shadows moved toward the light. He was thin, gaunt man with grayish skin and a black knit cap that covered his hair and part of his forehead. Crystal blue eyes had a wild look around them and a mass of wrinkles.

"Hey, honey, move it," he said, revealing a row of yellowed teeth.

"No," she insisted, "You need to get out."

The man didn't say anything but she saw him readying a clumsy swing. It was a lousy punch, barely pulling his arm back. This was no trained agent and she was used to dealing with trained agents. Instinctively, she felt the electric shock flow from her fingers in long strands of blue lightning. The man fell backward onto the pavement.

"Shit, she has a taser!"

The two other men in the building leapt through the window and raced down the alley. Evelyn considered pursuing them, but decided against it. They weren't likely to come back. The man on the ground shook his head and started to sit up. His unfocused eyes started up at her, the picture of bemusement.

Evelyn looked down at him, putting her hands in her pockets so he couldn't see the static clinging to them. "Get out."

The man didn't hesitate. He got up and raced down the alley, following his compatriots. Evelyn watched him go, shock settling into her stomach. How she got home, she wasn't quite sure. Everything from that moment in the alley to the point of her standing in front of her dorm building was a frantic blur. She hurried up the stairs to safety, feeling as though she was being chased into hiding.

Finally, after what seemed like far too long, she slammed the door to the dorm floor behind her. Her heart pounded in her chest so hard she was almost positive it would punch through her ribs. She focused on breathing and the thudding in her ears abated. Realization settled in, a sick feeling in the lowest part of her stomach.

"What have I done?" she whispered. She could get in massive trouble for this. Just how much trouble, she wasn't sure. But someone somewhere would have questions that needed answered. She wasn't even sure if she was seen, at least not enough for a positive identification. Maybe this would all just kind of go away.

It was a sleepless night. She could barely keep her eyes closed. Every time she disappeared into darkness, she worried about what the next day would bring. Would the police try to find her? She didn't think they would since she was, in fact, stopping a crime. But who knew?

Classes the next morning were a slog. Evelyn found herself only half aware of what was going on, not good when trying to recall basic algebra. For some reason, when under pressure to solve for the variable, her brain only saw fit to provide her with the answer of twelve times four. By lunchtime she had heard no mention of the incident by any other students or teachers. Her mind was at ease enough that she could catch a fifteen minute nap. It was during that nap that an idea started to form.

There was a good chance the would-be thieves didn't report her because they could not do so without admitting their own wrongdoing. So, with that in mind, as long as she was stopping a crime in progress, there was a good chance she wouldn't get in trouble. If she did, she could easily say she was coming to someone's defense. That would be justified.

And she wasn't thinking of taking down drug traffickers or gangsters, that was SHIELD's turf. But small crimes, the sort SHIELD and the police didn't have time to cover… it may seem insane, but she thought she could do something about that.

She mulled on the thought for the rest of the day, until it came time for her shift at the lab. She brought with her a special bag, one that she didn't think she had to use again. It was her emergency pack from the X-men.

She had scarcely looked at the uniform since she left the mansion. First and foremost, it was hard to do so without a flood of memories, without missing her dear friends. Second of all, she had no reason to bring it out. Maybe she could wear it for a Halloween party or something but that might be bad taste. It still seemed like a silly whim to even bring it tonight. Maybe it was. But she felt that the benefits outweighed the risks.

Her uniform was tight across her chest. It was surprising how much her bust had increased since last she wore it. Perhaps it wasn't a bad thing, but it meant that she had to squish her breasts down so the overexerted zipper could fight its way up to her chin. She had also grown taller so the pants were a bit too short for her legs but a pair of knee-high socks and her tall boots pretty much covered everything. The thighs were tight because she had grown more fit since the age of fifteen. She threw on her University hoodie to hide the signature X. She turned in the bathroom mirror to examine the fit from all angles. It would be good enough for her purposes.

Her pockets were filled with batteries, ready for the evening's events, whatever they may be. She pulled the hood of her sweatshirt down over her face and the scarf up over her chin. With her face obscured, she walked into the night.


	28. Pt 3 Ch 3: The Ghost of Kappa House

"Okay," muttered Evelyn, kneeling behind a stone wall. "This looks bad."

The frat party was in chaos, thanks to her. In fairness, it wasn't her intention to go and start something. It just sort of happened anyway. What was that saying about best laid plans?

This was the closest call she had so far in her midnight vigilante career. She heard the police sirens coming and now the entire road was flooded with red and blue flashing lights. She was also wearing her X-men suit and a sweatshirt pulled over her head, it was suspicious to say the least. There was no way for her to go home that way. She would have to take the long way around and pray she made it home without incident.

The evening didn't start with her traipsing through Baltimore in shadows. It actually started with a very good shift at the mutation lab. It began with dinner around the small plastic table in the kitchenette. It wasn't a very large space but the coziness meant that you got to know your co-workers. The space was also mostly clean, with white laminate flooring and matching cabinets and countertops.

"Has anyone else noticed that blue is a common skin pigment among mutants?" asked Penelope to the group as they ate, "I mean, I know of at least two who share blue-green hues."

There was a murmur of agreement around the table. Evelyn thought back. Both Hank and Kurt had blue fur. She also knew about Mystique though her time with the X-men and she had blue skin in her neutral form too. She had never thought about it before, but it did seem like an interesting trend. Perhaps it was something worth investigating. If ever there was a place to investigate this trend, they were sitting right in the middle of it.

"It could be that genes for pigmentation are influenced by mutant genes," suggested one researcher, an olive-skinned geneticist with tightly curled hair named Eli.

"Or it could be that pigment genes are mutated themselves," returned another researcher, a tall redheaded biochemist with a massive amount of freckles named Sara.

"It could have nothing to do with pigmentation," suggested a younger researcher with bulky glasses and messy hair named Tyler, "Have you ever heard of the Kentucky blue people?"

Everyone stared at him for a long section like he was nuts. The microwave dinged, alerting someone their dinner was finished heating but nobody moved to retrieve it. Finally Eli raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"The what?"

"Don't y'all know?" asked Tyler incredulously.

"No, please tell us," said Eli, amusement tinging his voice.

"Well, there was a story that's been around a long time about people with blue skin who lived in the hills. And then one day, two of them came into town and they had skin blue as a berry. So they went to the local doctor to try to get rid of their blue skin and he found out that their blood was not oxygenating properly. They weren't getting enough oxygen to their cells and that's why their skin was blue. It was a genetic condition. Been in their family for decades. So, maybe blue mutations are common because it has something to do with the oxygenation of the blood rather that the pigmentation of the skin."

The room was silent for a second, save for a few people chewing their food. Evelyn mulled over the story for a second. It seemed to make sense but wrapping her mind around blue people living in the hills was a little too much to believe. Then again, she was natural oddity as well so who was she to judge?

"I think you made that up," accused Sara playfully.

Tyler leaned back in his chair and held up two fingers, "It's a true story! Scout's honor! You can go and look up documents of the case at the library back home. The blue people are as real as I am."

Evelyn ate her dinner in silence as she mused over this idea. If there was a case study precedence, then it might be worth investigating it from a genetics standpoint to see if any of it connected. She highly doubted it was universal since Hank and Kurt's pigmentation extended to hair and nails. However, if this was the case for some mutants, the fact that there was a chance they could remove their pigmentation might mean that they could better adapt to living among others. It was an option open to them.

She was mulling this over while sorting glassware when she felt the building shake from a sudden impact. In feat, Evelyn raced down a flight of stairs to the front of the building. She was absolutely shocked to see broken glass littering the front walkway and shimmered like the flame of a bunsen burner on the front sidewalk under an amber streetlamp. The air smelled like gasoline and burnt rubber.

"What?" she muttered, turning the corner hurriedly.

A car, or what was left of the car, was halfway in and halfway out the glass window in the lobby of the lab. The lamppost on the sidewalk was bent at a clean forty-five degree angle from impact before the car sailed up over the curb and crashed right into the building. Evelyn raced over to the window, ignoring the glass. Fortunately, nobody was in the lobby. It seemed like the worst of the damage occurred to the building and not to people. At least she wouldn't have to use her powers. That made things easier, as people were already gathering to assess the damage. Quietly, she pulled a pen from her pocket and noted the license plate on the car, just in case. SHIELD training taught her there was no such thing as too much information.

"What the hell?" said Professor McKenzie, surveying the scene, "What is going on here?"

It took a while to find order in the chaos but eventually they found the guy who crashed the car. He had somehow shimmied out of the car and began hobbling down the street. He was a tall, with tan hair flecked with blond dye at the ends. Alcohol vapors surrounded his face as he stared around with blank, empty eyes and a disoriented expression. Evelyn might have been mistaken but she was fairly sure she smelled something faintly herbaceous about his person.

By the time they dragged him back to the scene of the crime, the familiar red and blue flash of police lights were illuminating the dark scene and the wail of the sirens filled the air. It was a chaotic scene, to say the least. Everyone had to sit and calmly give a statement to police, however small and insignificant it might be.

"What does any of this matter?" slurred the driver as he was half-carried, half-shoved into the back of the police car. "They're all just freaks workin' for other freaks."

Evelyn fumed. It was hard to tell if that was directed toward the mutants or not, it was just vague enough to hint at the fact. She flicked her eyes over to where her fellow researchers were standing. McKenzie seemed irate and was saying something in a furious undertone to one of the patrol cops. Penelope was looking back at her and their eyes met. Each knew they heard what the other said.

"I couldn't tell if he said 'freaks' or 'geeks,'" said Sarah the next evening when they microwaved their dinners and brewed a fresh batch of coffee to get them through the evening.

"Neither one is complimentary," noted Penelope.

"True."

"Did anyone else think that it might have had something to do with the mutant lab?" asked Evelyn, "Or am I being sensitive?"

They were quiet for a minute, staring at each other. Eli was finally the one to speak up as he poured himself a mug. "I don't know if he knows. This lab isn't common knowledge. I think he was too inebriated to know which way was up. But, yes, I suppose it's not out of the question."

"What did the police say?" asked Penelope.

Sarah shrugged, "They charged him for the pot they found in his car. But, since he turned in the guy who sold him the pot, they're just going to forget about the crash."

"Fuckin' priorities," hissed Eli in a grouchy undertone, half drowned in a mug of coffee.

It made Evelyn mad. She didn't say anything at the table, it would be preaching to the choir. But it still got her knickers in a twist. "So, what's the punishment for that?"

"Probation. And he has to go in for drug testing."

"Well, that's getting off easy," said Sarah with a frown, "Especially considering we have to pay almost five thousand dollars to repair the front of our building! I'd like to see him pay for that at least."

"Keep dreaming," said Eli as he dumped his garbage and headed into the lab.

The conversation did nothing to settle Evelyn's aggregated nerves. She furiously dove into her work to try to keep her mind off things but the seething feeling in her chest wouldn't go away. All the while, she had a myriad of fantasies about what she would do to get even. Taking her fist to his new car topped the list. Her daydreaming was interrupted by Penelope telling her they were wrapping up for the evening.

"By the way," she said, "I'm gone to be gone on Friday. I'm leaving early to go to Josh's home for the weekend."

"Who?"

"Oh! I can't believe I never introduced you," Penelope exclaimed, "Josh is my boyfriend. Hold on, I have a picture."

She dug a folded photo out of her wallet and handed it over to Evelyn. The man in the photo was tall and handsome, with coffee colored skin and warm, dark eyes. They stood close together in the photo, surrounded by pretty fall trees. His arm wrapped around her shoulders and they leaned into each other. Their smiles were as bright as the sun.

"You're a very cute couple," smiled Evelyn politely, "How did you meet?"

"I hit him with my car," she smirked, "No, seriously. He works at my bank. And I was just leaving and he was just arriving. I didn't see him behind me when I was pulling out so I knocked him over. And, you know, I felt bad. So I offered to buy him coffee. One thing led to another and… we started dating."

"That's quite a story," smiled Evelyn, "So how long ago was that?"

"Ten months," replied Penelope, putting the photo back into her wallet. "Actually, we've been sort of talking about getting married."

"Really?" Evelyn smiled, "That's pretty awesome!"

"I'm hoping he will propose by Christmas," she admitted, "Because, he's going to San Diego with me this year to see my family."

"That's super cute," smiled Evelyn, "I'm happy for you."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No," laughed Evelyn, "No, not remotely."

"What about your friend… uh, Clint. The guy you talk about."

"Clint's like a brother to me," explained Evelyn, "I like him, but we just don't have that kind of relationship. Besides, he totally has a crush at this girl at his work."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," smiled Evelyn, "Her name's Natasha and he's crazy over her."

"What about school? Anyone from school?"

"Too busy," shrugged Evelyn, shaking her head, "I dunno. It was just inconvenient. And back at Xavier's, we were all just way too preoccupied to date much."

"Where?"

Evelyn but her lip. She hadn't intended to talk about her time with mutants but, well, she seemed like she was in good company. Penelope had a mutant in the family. Maybe then it wouldn't be weird to talk about it.

"I lived with mutants for about three years," she explained, pulling out her own photo from her purse, "This is Kitty and Kurt. They were my best friends. And that's Bobby and Piotr. We had a lot of good times together."

"So you lived in a school for mutants?"

"Yeah," Evelyn smiled, running her fingers over the glossy surface of the photo. "It was great. I had a lot of good teachers. One of them, Hank, really supported me and encouraged me to pursue science. I really owe him a lot. He's the reason I'm here."

Penelope was silent for a moment, looking at the photos. When she finally spoke up, her voice was soft. "Do you think they could help my niece?"

"I'm sure they can," said Evelyn with a smile, surprised her friend hadn't asked her _why_ she had been there. "I can get you in touch."

"Oh I would love that," she smiled in relief, "anything to help Gina."

Evelyn made a note to call Hank in the morning. She had been meaning to call again, just to see how things were going. Her and Kitty chatted almost weekly but that was different. She called Kitty to tell her how much she missed her and how she was _such_ a better roommate than the one she was saddled with now. And they talked about boys and movies and Kitty would bend her ear with the newest computer news or the new video game that was out. She almost called her right then but it was just late enough to be inconvenient and Evelyn wanted to do her patrol for the night.

She decided to make her usual loop around campus and make sure there was no trouble. Mostly she just walked the perimeter and kept an ear open for trouble and an eye open for suspicious behavior. Usually all was quiet and there was nothing to worry about. She had broken up a mugging, a few burglaries, some assorted vandals, cornered a pickpocket and made him hand his ill gotten gains back to the rightful owner, and she was fairly sure she stopped a drug deal at one point but truth be told, she wasn't sure. Tonight was, fortunately, uneventful. By the time she was nearly back at the dorms, it was starting to rain lightly.

When she finally reached the dorm room, her door was locked. She wiggled the doorknob again but it didn't give. Laura had borrowed (more like took) her key because she left hers at some guy's house. Now, the door was locked and she had no idea where her roommate could be. Repeated calls to her cell phone went unanswered. She could, with her strength, force the door open but then she would have to somehow get it fixed.

Evelyn sat on the ground outside the door, waiting for Laura to return, waiting for some sort of response. It was unlikely. She sometimes didn't return all night.

Not knowing what else to do, Evelyn walked off into the chilly night. Her legs guided her to a friend. She knocked on the door and waited for a response. It was late but she hoped that maybe she could find asylum. To her relief, the door opened and Penelope stood in the warm light.

"Hi," said Evelyn awkwardly, "My… roommate locked me out. I have nowhere to go."

"Come on in," nodded Penelope.

Her apartment was not large but it was homey. There were russet colored curtains in the windows and a clean white tablecloth on the kitchen table. The couple obviously didn't have much, but they seemed to make the place as cozy as humanly possible.

"Josh isn't home just yet," said Penelope as she hastily shoved dinner dishes into the sink, "But he'll be back soon."

"I'm sorry to impose," said Evelyn heavily, "I just…"

Penelope cut her off, "It's not imposing. Don't worry. Are you hungry?"

She was, but she didn't want to ask. In retrospect, she should have hit up one of the late-night diners or pizza joints on her way over here. Her frustration at her lousy roommate must have impeded her judgement.

She must have taken too long to respond because Penelope smiled and said, "I'll heat something up for you."

"You don't have to."

Penelope shot her a look and pulled some Tupperware dishes from the fridge. In a few minutes, she handed Evelyn a warm plate of rice with some sort of meat doused in a spicy brown sauce. It was unlike anything else she had in her life but it was really delicious.

"So what were you doing out so late?"

Evelyn paused. She tried to think up an excuse but she was coming up with nothing. Instead she took another bite of food and tried to organize her thoughts.

"And for God's sake, don't lie to me," insisted Penelope.

"I wasn't… planning on it," Evelyn stammered. "But… you have to hear me out. Okay, this is going to be weird."

Penelope sat down on the stool across from her. "Remember where I work. I can handle weird."

Evelyn doubted it. "You know that I said I lived with mutants?"

"Let me guess, you are a mutant?"

"Sort of. I'm something. I didn't test for the mutant gene but…"

Evelyn bit her lip. She had never shown off her powers before. She wasn't even sure she should. If her father knew what she was about to do, he would be very upset. With a sigh, she opened her hands and let the energy of the room flow through her. The lights overhead flickered softly as small lights danced around her fingers. Penelope raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"And you're sure you aren't a mutant?"

"Positive," said Evelyn, "I was tested at Xavier's school for special youngsters and they had no idea what was going on with me. I don't know what I am but whatever it is, it's something nobody there had seen before."

Penelope was quiet for a moment, watching as the energy drifted over her fingers like water on a beach. "So what can you do with that?"

"Lots of things. It can be used as an ion particle shield. I've used it to stop bullets before, so it's pretty strong. It can be used sort of like a taser in a combat situation. I guess I could hit harder but I usually don't have enough energy usually to do that sort of thing and why would you want to anyway? And, you know, it can also short-circuit electronics. But most often, I can use the flow of energy to stimulate cell growth and it heals people."

"You're like a little Swiss army knife!"

Evelyn shrugged. She hadn't really thought of it that way, but it wasn't entirely inaccurate. She let the energy flow freely out of her hands and shook them to cool off the warm, prickly sensation that gathered around her fingertips.

"So, yeah, that's my dirty little secret."

"I wouldn't say that," shrugged Penelope, "But… why don't you tell more people about it?"

Evelyn shrugged, "You know how hard it is just for mutants to find a way in the world. I don't even have the benefit of putting a name to whatever it is I am. I don't know of a single other person in the entire world like me. There aren't any support groups for… this. So, you know, it's just easier to try to find a place where I can fit in as best as possible. I try to act as normal as possible and find some sort of place in the world. You know, I'm doing what I like by working in science. That's good enough for me."

Penelope was silent, taking in what she just said. Finally she sighed, "I wish there was something I could do to help."

Evelyn shook her head, "Trust me, it's not a big deal, but just don't mention this to anyone. I've been like this my entire life and I've dealt with it my own way. My Dad is more than okay with it and I have friends who know what is going on and they're cool with things. I live my life, and it's all okay."

They were quiet, sitting opposite each other in silence while each absorbed the new information from each other. Finally Penelope spoke up, "Let me know what I can do to help. I know you try to be normal and you do a good job of it. But… I don't want you to feel alone."

"Thanks," smiled Evelyn. Penelope was a good friend. "Actually, there is one thing I could use your help with."

"Anything."

"Do you have a computer I can borrow?"

In a few minutes, Evelyn was remotely logging into the SHIELD database. She could use her father's password but opted instead to use Clint's. Her father might notice unusual activity on his account but Clint was less likely to notice and also less likely to question it.

"I'm not totally sure how much I want to be involved in this," said Penelope over her shoulder, "So, the less I know, the less I have to lie about."

"Relax," assured Evelyn, "None of this is illegal, more than technically. It's research."

"Okay, whatever you say," she sighed.

Evelyn scanned the files for the license plate number she hastily scrawled down on her hand. It was easy to find the registration since there were about three flags on the tag.

"So, that's the guy who crashed into the lab?" asked Penelope over her shoulder, "Brad Williamson, Jr?"

"Yup," muttered Evelyn. Just his name sounded like the sort of entitled scumbag who thought he would get away with things. "It looks like this isn't his first citation."

Penelope whistled under her breath, "His insurance rates must be through the roof."

"I have the sense he doesn't pay for his own insurance," she noted as she continued to scroll. "He also has a pending case for vandalism. And… oh that's bad."

"What?" Penelope leaned further over her shoulder. "What do you see?"

"He had a pending assault case. But it was dropped about a month and a half ago."

"Do you have any details on it?"

"Not using this account," admitted Evelyn. Maybe if she used her father's account she would have more details but it would also mean explaining to him what she was doing and that would open up questions that she wasn't keen on answering. "All I know is that this guy is bad news. Serial offender."

"Okay, so now what?" Penelope leaned back from the computer and watched her log off. "Are you going to go TP his house or something?"

"I don't know," evaded Evelyn. It wasn't so much that she didn't know, it was that she didn't want Penelope to have to lie for her. Already she had dragged her in too far, considered she didn't really want to be involved in her late-night job. "I'm not going to do anything tonight, at least. I'm tired."

"Please don't do anything stupid," pleaded Penelope, "For the love of Christ, I don't want to have to shop for a new lab partner."

"I'm not," said Evelyn, "Really!"

Penelope looked dubious, as well she probably should. True to her promise, she didn't go and do anything that night. Josh returned from his shift at the bank shortly afterward. It seemed late for him to be out.

"Actually," he said, "I've recently been promoted to a financial advisor. So, I sometimes have to stay late to help people with their portfolios, depending on their work hours."

Evelyn wasn't particularly financial savvy. It wasn't her interest. But he offered to help her out if she needed it. Not knowing what else to do, she filed it away for later knowledge. They spent the evening playing cards. Josh taught her how to play gin rummy. Then they unfolded the spare bed from the futon so she could sleep. She had trouble dozing off. Her feet were cold. But it's not like she was going to complain. It was better than sitting up waiting for Laura to show.

She declined breakfast in the morning in favor of hurrying back to the dorms and getting in an early morning shower. When she returned the dorm door was open and Laura was sitting in there with a guy. Evelyn pointedly ignored their presence as she gathered up her things and prepared to leave the pair of them to whatever they were doing.

She had the start of a plan forming. As she dutifully researched, her plot began to materialize. It turned out Brad was part of one of the school fraternities: Kappa house. She vaguely recalled Laura mentioning it in passing. For the life of her, she couldn't remember what the conversation was about. But she was fairly certain it had something to do with a party being thrown there, since Laura's existence revolved around her social life.

After her next shift at work, she donned her old suit once again, pulling on a sweatshirt so as to better appear incognito. Without a word, she snuck into the dark and made her way to the frat house on the far side of campus.

Part of her was excited at this new sort of adventure, but she also felt a heavy weight in her stomach. Something tugged on her shoulder, advising her against seeking petty revenge. But she couldn't walk to work without seeing the boarded - up window in the front. Every time she saw it, she just felt angry. Every time she thought about the relatively light sentence, she got angry. The anger had been compiling for a while now and demanded action.

As almost to be expected, she began to hear the sounds of a party from up the street. The pounding music made her organs feel like they were being shaken inside her body. There were also a chorus of voices, dissonant and ringing in the night. Part of her chest sank in disappointment. She would have a hard time wrecking up his car if there was a crowd. However, a funny little idea began to tickle the back of her mind as she drew nearer.

The place was absolutely swarming with energy. She could feel it even before she saw the well lit lot. It was warm and staticky, leaving an almost sticky, coppery taste in her mouth. She had never tried draining all the energy from a building but there was no time like the present to try.

"Alright, asshole," she smirked, "Now let's see how it feels to have your party crashed?"

She stood just off the edge of the lawn. The whole neighborhood was made up of quaint little antique houses. Across the way was a public park with a playground and a few small buildings. She planned on that being her escape route.

The energy started to flow into her body. Every part of her was suddenly warm, almost uncomfortably so. She could tell the lights in the building were dimming and flickering but she also saw bluish lights shimmer in front of her eyes like a mirage. Her heart thudded against her chest and her breath felt fuller, richer, like she was somehow full of more oxygen than normal. It was the best feeling in the world but also frightful. She felt the hair on her arms standing up and the faint metallic taste in her mouth which made her teeth uncomfortably sensitive.

As quickly as it began, it ended. Something cracked, possibly a transformer or at least a fuse box, and the energetic feeling died. She stood there in shock for a second as her brain registered what just happened. She felt so… _alive._

Then she realize the music was gone, the sounds. She was prone in the middle of the lawn for everyone to see. Not knowing what else to do, she bolted for the park as fast as her legs could take her. She tried to jump one of the small stone fences but caught her toe so she tripped and skidded across the grass. Her hand cut on a rock but it would heal quickly, she was full of more energy now than she ever had been in her entire life. Frankly, having an excuse to release some was a blessing, it alleviated the thrum in her ears.

All was well until she heard the sirens in the distance.

"Great," she muttered, peeking over the wall to see a small crowd gathering on the lawn of the frat house. "Okay. This looks bad."

She cut across the park and made her way home in a circuitous route. The sirens worried her, but it seemed like they came too soon to be on her account. Perhaps someone made a noise complaint and she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. When she finally collapsed into bed, she resolved to keep a low profile for a few days. Just in case.

Her last thought was one of gratitude. At least Laura was gone for the night so she could sleep in her own bed. Because if she was locked out again, she would bust the damn door down and to hell with the cost.

The next morning, Evelyn prepared duffle bag in case she got locked out again. It had a blanket, a pillow, her necessary books and toiletries, laptop, and her personal effects that she couldn't bear to part with like photos, her diary, and her threadbare Cap doll. If she could help it, she wouldn't spend any time in that room at all. It ended up being one of her smarter decisions.

Not even two nights later, Evelyn opened the door to her dorm room after a getting out of the lab early and was utterly shocked by the scene. She didn't linger long enough to register the details but she recognized Laura and saw a lot of bare skin. She didn't recognize the guy on top of her, catching only a brief glimpse of a profile before she shut the door. She bolted downstairs and tried to expunge the image from her memory.

She knew what sex was, of course. She was training to be in the medical profession, after all. Reproduction was a part of life as much as eating or sleeping. But it was all a very clinical study, a matter of inserting part A into slot B. This was the first time she saw it, well, in the flesh.

Obviously it was not possible to go back to the dorm room. So she pulled out her spare blanket from her bag and started reviewing her homework in the empty TV room. She could go back to Penelope's place again but it wasn't fair for her to impose twice in one week.

Focusing on schoolwork was harder than she expected even after she managed to get the image of what she saw cleared from her mind. The question was, would she tell Aaron about what happened? Snitching on Laura would make their relationship more contentious than it already was. But rules were rules. They were there for a good reason. She wanted a new roommate. No. She wanted things to be like they were with Kitty: fun and easy.

She was drawn from her contemplation by a sound at the door. When she turned, Aaron was standing in the frame wearing worn blue pajama bottoms and a Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt.

"So," said Aaron, crossing his arms, "You're up late."

Evelyn fumbled with her book for a moment before piecing her mind together and finding the words she wanted to say. "I could say the same about you."

He shrugged one shoulder, "This is my last year. I have lots of homework. Sleep is for the weak anyway. You're avoiding the point."

"What _is_ the point?"

"Are you and Laura getting along okay?"

Evelyn felt torn. Part of her wanted nothing better than to exact petty revenge and sic the administration on Laura. The vindictive pit in her stomach purred eagerly at the suggestion. But, her shot at revenge for the lab was leaving a sick feeling in her stomach. After sitting on it for awhile, and coming down from the high of being bloated with energy and adrenaline, she realized her actions didn't make her feel better. It certainly didn't fix the damage. The front of the lab wasn't being repaired by her breaking up the party. Nothing changed. All in all, she felt childish and disgusted at her own immaturity. Now that she had a chance to be the bigger person, she wanted to take it.

"Nothing different than normal," Evelyn fumbled, "I work late. She's out late. I'm just a little wound up now so I'm not ready for bed."

"I see," said Aaron. He pushed his glasses up onto his nose. It seemed like he had his own suspicions but it also seemed like it wasn't likely he was going to press her on it. Instead he yawned and then conversationally said, "How about the ghost over at Kappa House?"

Evelyn blinked, "What?"

"Yeah, I guess they blew their fuse box and someone saw a ghost out on the lawn. Someone got a photo of it," Evelyn felt panic surge in her stomach for a second, "But it was too blurry to really make it out."

She tried to play it cool and not look quite as alarmed as she felt, "That's something."

"It's funny," he said with a small smile, "Have you heard about the girl around campus who has been breaking up muggings and stuff?"

"Uh, no," said Evelyn, trying to keep the nervousness from her voice, "I've been way too busy."

"They say the first couple of events happened around the lab."

"Oh, really?" she muttered, shifting her papers around to try to appear distracted so he wouldn't pursue that lead.

"Evelyn. Look at me," she reluctantly looked up at him. He was smiling a soft, gentle smile. "I know."

Her first instinct was to deny everything. He really didn't have any proof that she had anything to do with it unless she confessed. If she continued to just play stupid, then there was no way she could get in trouble. But he didn't seem upset with her or even bothered by anything. She bit her lip.

"Hypothetically," she ventured, "If I happened to even have any idea what you were talking about, would that be due cause for me to be in any sort of trouble?"

"Not by me," he said, his voice soft, "Look, um… my aunt is a mutant. She's a wonderful woman and has been doing everything she can to help people. She always said it was her duty to assist since she had the ability to do so. So, I get it. You do what you need to do. I'm the last person who's gonna raise a stink about it."

Evelyn felt a wave of relief wash over her. For a moment, she thought she was in deep trouble. But it turned out to be much, much better than expected.

"I guess… if we're both being honest," Evelyn stammered, "I'm not in my dorm because Laura is… with a boy. She locked me out because they're… you know. I think she's done it more than once, too, because this isn't the first time I've been locked out. I wasn't going to say anything but… it does bother me. And I need help finding a solution."

"Yeah, I figured," grumbled Aaron, "I've gotten noise complaints from some of your neighbors. And I have brought it up to my superiors but her grandfather is on the board of directors for the college."

"So that's how she got in," blurted Evelyn. She covered her mouth in shock that she actually said the words. "I'm sorry. That was mean."

"Well, you're not wrong," admitted Aaron with a weary smile. "My hands are tied because her family are big donors and people are sort of reluctant to raise a stink about what she does because of that."

"That's not really fair, but I guess I get it." Evelyn couldn't help but think back at all the opportunities she had at SHIELD because her father was friends with the director. She couldn't help but remember some of the biting words Rumlow said just a few years ago about her family. It wasn't fair because she didn't think she ever once used her privilege selfishly, the way Laura did. It was still there and it was always going to be hard to ignore.

"Look," said Aaron, "I get it if you want to move out. Don't think it will hurt my feelings if you leave. It won't, alright? Because you shouldn't have to camp out in the TV room when you could have a nice bed to sleep in."

"I don't know where to go," admitted Evelyn.

"Yeah, fair point," muttered Aaron, pushing his glasses back up his nose again as they continued to slip downward. "Right now we have no vacancies in this dorm. Unless you are willing to pay extra for a single room."

"I don't know if my scholarship will cover that," muttered Evelyn, "Is there another dorm building I could move into with a comparable price?"

"Sure, but I have to check and see if they have vacancies."

"Can you do that and get back to me?"

"Of course," he nodded, "I would also check back in a few weeks. A lot of kids drop out after Thanksgiving. If there aren't vacancies now, there likely will be then."

"Thanks," mumbled Evelyn.

Aaron stood and paused, "Hey, uh, I happen to have a spare air mattress that I keep around for guests. Would you like me to set it up in here for you? Y'know, so you can get some sleep."

"I wouldn't want to impose."

"It would be a lot better than sleeping on this old couch," he tapped the worn leather, "Besides, it only takes a few minutes to set up."

Evelyn paused, "Thanks, but… I think I'll just wait it out. I have homework which needs finishing, anyway."

Aaron didn't appear convinced. "Let me know if you change your mind. I'll be up for a while longer."

"Yeah," she muttered, turning back to her homework.

The good news was that Laura and her mystery man left about an hour later. Evelyn wasn't sure where they were going but she didn't care enough to stop them and ask. It didn't matter. She darted up the stairs as soon as the pair shut the door behind them and she locked the door with a satisfying click.

Pajamas never felt so good. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out like a light. Morning came far too soon. The alarm blared, pulling her reluctantly out of sleep. She swung her hand on the nightstand to silence the alarm and was instead met with a loud crack.

"Awwww… shit," she cussed, awake now that she realized she would need a new alarm clock. The plastic casing on the device was busted, a network of thick cracks warping from the strain of the impact. When she looked around the room, Laura hadn't come back yet.

Apparently the time spent in the dorms was not enough so she was making it a sleepover. Evelyn didn't want to hope for the worst but since she never once saw Laura do her homework and she spent a good deal of time flaunting the rules, there was a good chance she would get kicked out of school. Even if she had connections, bad grades could only be excused for so long. Whatever, it wasn't her problem what Laura did with her life.

Slipping on her workout clothes, she prepared for her morning workout. Her routine consisted of running down to the train tracks and lifting some crates. It was the best she could do without the special equipment SHIELD developed for her. She picked up her CD player and looked through the mixed discs that Clint and Kitty sent her, finally just picking one at random. She was just putting her earphones in and opening the door when she noticed a man on the other side.

"Dad!" she shrieked, nearly dropping the CD player. She wasn't expecting him to visit, let alone at this hour.

"You have ten seconds to explain yourself."

"Explain what?" she stammered, anxious at his stern appearance and the sharp edge to his voice.

"Nine…"

"Okay!" she said, her mind jumping to the thing he was most likely here for. He grabbed her arm and lead her into the corner of the stair well, "One of the morons over at the frat house said some awful things when he crashed his car into the lab building. I did my research and he is personally involved in some nasty vandalism stuff. I was just going over to bust up his car or something and I saw there was a party. So I broke it up. Nobody was hurt. I just drained the power from the building. Look, I feel awful about it. I know it was a stupid idea."

"You were _seen_."

"Well, not me, specifically," she defended herself, "They just saw… a ghost."

"Still, I better not hear anything else about a ghost wandering around town," he said, "Is there anything else I need to know? Any other frat parties you are breaking up?"

Evelyn crossed her arms and pouted, "That's the first time I've broken up a frat party."

"What have you been doing, exactly?"

"Just… keeping an eye out," she said, "Watching for burglary and muggings and stuff like that."

Phil sighed, rubbing the space between his eyebrows, "Evelyn…"

"Papa, if I see something happen and I can do something to help, shouldn't I do something?"

"We've had this conversation before," he said, trying to cut her off.

"Yeah, when I was _eight_ ," she snapped, "I'm not a little kid. I know how to take care of myself and I'm not going to be stupid enough to let someone see my powers."

"It's not just about that," Phil fought back, "Evelyn, did it ever occur to you that if you were caught you could get charged with trespassing, or assault?"

Evelyn was quiet. She hadn't thought about that and now she felt embarrassed for having it pointed out to her. Her cheeks turned pink with emotion. The sick feeling she felt after breaking up the burglary returned to her stomach. It seemed to blend nicely with the new layers of guilt she had for the frat party incident. Any fun she may have had was spiralling down the drain.

"If you were charged," said Phil, his voice stern, "You could lose your scholarships. You could get kicked out of school. All these good things you have worked so hard for could be gone."

She _definitely_ hadn't thought of that. Part of her wanted to be outraged, to push against the accusation. But the overwhelming part of her knew her father was right. She didn't especially like the feeling since now, once again, she felt like a child who didn't understand anything. It was the second time in nearly as many days.

Her father's voice softened, "I'm not saying you can't help. You know if ever you wanted to go back into SHIELD, Nick would accept you in a heartbeat. But if you want to be in the lab, if you want to pursue a medical career, if you want to live a civilian life… there are different rules."

She had never felt more ashamed in her entire life. Anything she could say to defend herself wasn't nearly enough. He was right. She couldn't, in any way, ignore or fight against it. Hot tears prickled her eyes and she felt like she was about ten inches tall.

"I'm sorry…"

Phil opened his arms to hug her and his daughter fell into his embrace. She was so tall now, it was a bit awkward for him to reach upwards and hold her. Regardless, it was nice that he could hug her again. But he wasn't sure how much she truly understood. Youth meant that you felt invincible, like nothing in the world could touch you. But reality was much more unforgiving and unfriendly.

Evelyn sighed and then spoke. "Did you honestly drive all the way down here just to tell me off in person at six-thirty in the morning?"

"No," admitted Phil, "I had to be in DC anyway for a meeting. Since I was in the neighborhood, I thought I ought to discuss this with you face to face. If we're going to have a serious discussion, I owe you that much."

"You didn't know I'd be awake…"

"This is something that I would have woken you up for."

Her mouth fell open in shock, "You were planning on breaking and entering, weren't you?"

"Guilty as charged," Phil admitted with a small smile. "Breakfast?"

Evelyn pulled out of the hug and started walking alongside him, "Yes, please! I'm starved."

"You're always hungry."

"I know."

The found a small twenty-four hour diner just off of campus. Phil was somewhat amused as it seemed like all small, greasy-spoon diners looked exactly the same. He walked in and smelled the coffee percolating and bacon hitting the griddle. It was like being back at the Hawthorn with a group of SHIELD agents after a mission. The two discussed classes, work, Clint and Natasha's new role as international agents, and the rest of the people at SHIELD. Evelyn found herself missing them terribly.

"I have to take an introductory anatomy class," she said, "It's mostly memorization, but it's not too bad. Actually, it's really easy. I sorta wish I could test out of it and take another class."

"You've always been good at memorizing things," stated Phil as he cut into the waffles he ordered, "And languages. Aren't most of those medical terms in Latin or Greek?"

"I don't know either of those languages."

"Well, yes, but Latin and Greek make up a lot of English words. So you can sort of figure out what the word means based off of what it means in English. It all fits together… sort of."

"Perhaps," she shrugged, sipping the extra strong coffee, "Languages have never been an issue for me. Memorization is just tedious. The only thing I am concerned with is keeping track of everything."

"Other than being easy, how is the class going?"

"It's fine. There are a bunch of people in the class: dental students, exercise science, genetics, therapists, nutritionists," she sighed, "And then… I don't know where I am going. I haven't a clue."

"You'll figure things out," assured Phil, "You're only on your first year. Nobody knows exactly what they are going to do the rest of your life when you are just on your first semester of college. I'm sure you will find something."

"If you say so…"


	29. Pt 3 Ch 4: What's the Date?

Penelope and Josh meant well, she knew, but it was hard not to feel like the third wheel when she went out and did things with them. She felt like the observer, watching the two of them enjoying themselves rather than actually being a part of the fun. They didn't do it on purpose, it was simply inevitable.

Evelyn found herself fighting against a sick, envious feeling in her stomach. The pair seemed so happy, they seemed to relish every moment spent in each other's company. When he looked at her and she looked at him, it was like they wanted nothing more in the world than to be there in that moment. Worst of all, Evelyn didn't want to be jealous of them. She despised the horrid green feeling in the pit of her gut. More than anything, she wanted to be rid of that emotion and just enjoy her time with the couple. She settled on sublimating it and attempting to convince herself that the emotion didn't exist.

She was less than thrilled to go to a trivia night at a local cafe with the two of them. She just didn't feel too keen about spending another night watching them have fun. But it was either that or stick around the dorms. Between the two, she would take the option which meant she spent as little time as possible around Laura.

Josh went to get drinks while Penelope took her by the sleeve to find a group. There were about four groups around the main seating area, each had between five and seven people clustered around a table. In the middle was a bell, like the ones at the front desk of a hotel. The emcee was up at the front of the inky black save for a swath of neon blue around the center part of his hair. All in all, he was a peculiar fellow with a smile that seemed a bit too wide and teeth that seemed a bit too white.

From what Evelyn gathered, the emcee announced the trivia question and the first group to ring got to answer the question. The person to answer correctly got to pick the next category to answer. It was more or less the same rules as Jeopardy. There was also a points system but she had no idea how that worked.

Penelope walked up to one of the smaller groups with Evelyn in tow. "Do you have room for three more?"

"Yeah, sure," said one of the team members, "Do any of you happen to know anything about vikings? Because we are getting absolutely smoked in that category!"

He was a nice enough looking guy. His hair color was somewhere between a light brown and a dark blond. In the light, it appeared brighter but more subdued shadows crept through the texture. His skin had a slight tan to it and a few freckles, almost as though he spent some time outside. His eyes were pewter gray with eyebrows and eyelashes so fine they were nearly invisible.

Penelope shook her head, "Just a lowly chemist."

"Alright," he chuckled, "Well, you can still join. Maybe the periodic table will be in the next round of questions. I'm Evan, by the way."

Penelope took his offered hand, "I'm Penelope. This is Evelyn. My boyfriend Josh is around here somewhere too."

Evan's eyes landed on her as he shook her hand in turn, "Evelyn."

"Hi," she said politely. Her face was a bit warm, making her somewhat regret the fluffy blue sweater she picked to wear tonight.

"So, are you a student?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Evelyn, "I'm pre-med. You?"

"Mechanical engineering."

"Well, that's cool," she said, "And you're a freshman?"

"Sophomore," he corrected, "over at John Hopkins."

"I go to school there too," she said.

"Funny I haven't seen you around much," he said.

It wasn't really. It was a big school. She rarely saw anyone outside of her major except in some of the core classes like history or writing. Because he was older, she doubted that he was in any freshmen classes. Plus, she had a very active life outside of school so she rarely frequented school events. Homecoming came and went without her even realizing it! She didn't know how to express this to Evan so she just shrugged one shoulder in a noncommittal way.

At that moment, Josh returned with their drinks: Evelyn had a hazelnut mocha, Penelope had a chai tea that smelled strongly of anise, and Josh had some frozen chocolate blended monstrosity with an abundance of whipped cream. Evelyn didn't think she would be able to handle something cold right now. Her hot drink warmed her chilled fingers. A cold snap rocked Baltimore the night before, encasing the city in a thick layer of frost. Tonight, clear skies offered no protection from the frozen expanse of space. There was no chance of precipitation tonight, fortunately. If there was, it would encapsulate everyone and everything with ice.

"So," said Evan, "Our next categories are 'trees,' 'authors,' 'cocktails,' 'Australia,' and 'Arctic animals.' So, nice and varied."

Any knowledge that she had on those subjects were passing at best. But she decided to contribute as best she could. The first few questions sailed by and she couldn't have even guessed the answer. But finally the category got around to 'authors.'

"Alright," said the emcee with that creepy wide smile, "Authors for ten points, 'Who wrote the first novel in the year 1008?"

Evelyn's hand shot to the bell and hit it before the group even had a chance to converge. "Murasaki Shikibu!"

"Correct! Ten points for team three!"

Evan turned toward her, "How did you know that?"

Evelyn shrugged. Honestly, it was because of Kitty. She loved to read and she had a bit of a soft spot for Japanese comic books, video games, and, well, Japan in general. Call it a guilty pleasure. Evelyn never got into it, but she picked up bits and pieces.

"I'm impressed," he said, "I wouldn't have even been able to guess that one. I was thinking it was some old Celtic story of something."

"I don't know, really, what defines something as a novel," admitted Evelyn, "Because there are much older _stories_ but I don't think they were published in a book format with chapters and things. Is that all it takes to define sometime as a novel?"

"No idea," admitted Evan, "But it would make sense, you know?"

"Do you read a lot?" asked Evelyn, surprising herself with her own boldness but also wanting to slap herself in the forehead for saying something so stupid.

"I like to read alright," he said, "I sorta got too busy to read after a while."

"Anything in particular?"

"Mysteries, mostly," he said, "I'm a sucker for crime dramas and stuff."

She smiled, her father liked mysteries. He liked detective stories. He had read through most of the classics: Christie, Doyle, and the like and dragged her along with it too. He also had a handful of Ian Fleming novels that he pretended he never read because it was way too cliche.

"What about you?" he asked.

"Me?"

"Well, I wasn't talking to the Pope," he joked. She found herself laughing a little bit despite herself. "What do you like to read?"

"A little adventure, a little mystery, a bit of fantasy," she said, a bit unwilling to admit how much she adored the Harry Potter books. They talked for a few minutes more about movies, about music, about other things they liked.

"Hey, um, do you want to go out for dinner sometime?"

Evelyn was stunned, surprised she was hearing what she was hearing. But it wasn't really a bad thing. In fact, the attention was really nice.

"Sure," she smiled, pulling over a napkin so she could jot down her number, "You should, um, give me a call so we can grab something."

"Could I convince you to catch a movie too?"

"You certainly won't need to twist my arm," she replied, handing over the napkin with her number on it. She was surprised by her flirtation. But she really couldn't bring herself to be ashamed. It was the first time she had done anything like this and it was sort of fun. She eagerly awaited his call and was ecstatic when they finally made contact and set up a date for their meeting.

She didn't have many dresses, at least not the sort which looked nice for dates. But she had one that she liked, a pretty navy blue dress with a floaty skirt and satin ribbon details. It was the dress she wore to graduation. Bobbi and Maria helped her pick it out. Bobbi was near tears at how much she had grown up. Maria was her typical, placid self but her smile seemed a bit softer and her eyes misted up slightly.

She wanted to do her makeup too, at least a little bit. Kitty and Natasha were much better than her at makeup and hair. Evelyn considered herself sort of average at that sort of thing. The knowledge she had came to her largely under Kitty's tutelage. She chose a pretty sandy colored eyeshadow which had a bit of shimmer in it that Natasha gave her for prom. Kitty gave her a pretty pink-tinted lip gloss for Christmas that she liked even though it made her lips feel a bit sticky. Between the two, it seemed like she would look fine.

"So what are you doing for your date?" said Laura.

"To the movies," said Evelyn as she traced the outline of her upper eyelid with the eye shadow brush, "And dinner. There's a Mediterranean place that looks interesting."

"Ew."

Evelyn turned, "You don't like Mediterranean food?"

"It all looks like baby food to me. Super gross."

"Have you ever had any?"

"No, I can't get over the fact that it all looks mushy. Like, really, who _wants_ to eat that?"

Evelyn wasn't sure how to respond. Maybe it was because she grew up in New York City and there were as many ethnic restaurants in and around the city as there were ethnicities, but she was always willing and interested in trying something new. She and her father partook of the falafel cart down the road from the apartment. It was delicious, especially the tzatziki sauce. That sauce was the best part, like it was made by angels. Laura was comfortably wedged between the pages of Cosmo magazine so Evelyn didn't bother to retort. There are more important things to do than argue the virtues of ethnic food.

More importantly, she was getting nervous for her date. She checked over her skirt and made sure it was free of wrinkles and grabbed her purse. She looked alright, she decided. Nervousness threatened to overwhelm her. It was odd that nervousness overtook hunger. She was nearly always at least a little hungry.

Finally, it was time to go. She couldn't shake her pre-date jitters but did manage to sublimate it. Evan was wearing a nice forest green button up shirt and khaki pants. He even wore a tie, black with a gold diamond pattern on it. He looked nice, the colors played off of the darker tones of his hair.

"Ready?" he asked, offering a hand to her.

She took it, somewhat nervously. Really, in comparison to her prior dating experience there was no way it could get any worse. But, she also wasn't one to tempt fate.

He drove a blue Honda Civic, hardly the sexiest car in the world. But the paint was not chipped. The inside of the car was clean and vacuumed. It even smelled like he might have ran a Clorox wipe across the dashboard or put an air freshener in the car.

"So," he said, starting the ignition, "Have you ever had gyros before?"

"Yeah, but I am always happy to have another!"

"Dang," he smirked as he pulled out of the street parking and onto the main road, "here I was hoping to make an impression."

"I think you're doing okay," she said. Immediately after, she felt silly. Why was it so hard to find and use the right words? She could almost picture Clint and Natasha shaking their heads at her in dismay. But, you know, we couldn't all be suave, badass international super spies.

The gyros at the shop were so large she needed to cradle the foil wrapped package in both hands. She had to admit the little shop made the best gyros she had up to that point. The vegetables were fresh, crunchy, and the meat was cooked perfectly with perfect grill marks. The sauce was the perfect balance of tangy and creamy. She could have eaten two if hadn't been trying to act like a lady.

"So… medical?"

"Yeah," she said, trying to avoid speaking with her mouth full.

"Why did you pick medical?"

She paused. To be honest, that was a bit of a complicated question and she wasn't quite sure how to answer it in a way which might not be an automatic turn-off. Telling a boy that you are interested in about your freaky electricity powers might not be the best way to start a first date. So she opted to pretend to finish chewing a bite of food while she gathered her thoughts.

"I, uh, have a good friend with a medical issue, migraines," she explained, "And there really wasn't much to be done for her headaches aside from sitting in the dark alone whenever they flared up. She tried her best to work around it but I wanted to make it so she didn't have to. I wanted to help. I suppose that's what got me interested."

"I guess that's as good a reason as any. I mean, people always need doctors," he replied.

"What about your major?"

"I guess I have a lot of memories working with my dad in the wood shop out back," he admitted, "And when I was in high school, I took an auto shop class and really liked it. I just have a knack for building things, I suppose. Might as well get paid for what you're good at."

Evelyn nodded. In a way, things weren't so different between them. Playing to your strengths was always a strong career path. The conversation from there was a much simpler exchange of stories and easy questions. It was nice.

Part of her was bothered that eventually she would have to eventually tell him about her big secret. But a little voice tugging at the back of her mind reminded her not to get too far ahead of herself. It was only a first date. As far as she knew, he wasn't having any fun and this would be the last she saw of him.

They picked out Treasure Planet as the movie to go see after they polished off their gyros. Evelyn loved it but then she had a bit or a soft spot for Disney animation. She made a mental note to find out what band played the song in the middle because it was really good.

"Can we do that again sometime?" asked Evan as he drove her back to the dorms, "I really had fun."

"I did too," her mouth said on its own. "Uh, I'd love to meet up again."

"Great!" His eyes genuinely lit up as she said it. "I have your number so I'll call you, okay?"

"Call anytime."

"Thanks."

They sat there for a second in the car. Evelyn wasn't sure if he would let her out of the car or if he was going to at least hug her goodbye or something. It seemed like she was on her own. Although she knew it wasn't a big deal, as she opened the door she couldn't help but be a teeny bit disappointed. But it was a first date. Maybe it was too much to hope for. She didn't really know the protocol for this sort of thing, her own dating experience being a somewhat poor representation. It bugged her a bit that he just dropped her off like that but not enough to say no to another date if he did end up calling.

Laura was gone again, as per normal. Since it was a Friday night, there was a good chance she wouldn't be around until Saturday morning at the absolute earliest. Evelyn was grateful for the quiet weekend, it gave her a welcome chance to catch up on homework and wait for Evan to possibly call her back for another meeting. When she woke up in the morning, she decided to stay in her pajamas and work on memorization for her anatomy class.

"Axial skeleton," she muttered, pulling out the diagram of bones in the skull, "Let's take a look at the cranium."

The blank, hollow eyes of the skull stared back from the Xerox copy she was handed out. She began labeling the different parts of the skull in pencil, "Frontal, mastoid, temporal… occipital… forms the suture, foramen magnum, sphenoid… ethmoid… and all that makes up the skull."

She looked back at her neat little cursive filling in the labels on the drawing of the cranium. Blinking, she went on to the face. With a sigh, she started labelling those, muttering the names under her breath.

"Mandible, nasal, maxillary, alveoli sockets for the teeth, the… temporomandibular joint… God, that's a mouthful… zygomatic bones in the cheek."

She was pulled from the labeling for a moment when her phone rang. She reached over, cradling the receiver against her cheek as she pulled out the diagram of the vertebral column. She cleared her throat and answered the phone.

"Hello?" she said. In her haste she had completely forgotten to look at the caller ID.

"Hi there, Evey," said the cheerful voice on the other end. Evelyn felt herself smiling at hearing her father's voice.

"Hi Dad," she said with a grin, "I've been hoping to hear from you."

"I'm making a call I know you will like," announced Phil, "I'm taking time off to go to Portland."

"Papa!" smiled Evelyn, "I'm glad. You'll have fun!"

"I thought you needed to know, in case you were going to get ahold of me. I'll be gone for the a three day weekend."

"Just three days?"

"It's a quick weekend vacation, not an invasion."

"You're funny," she smirked, "So when are you leaving?"

"Friday at eleven. There's a quinjet going out to the National Guard base since we are looking to contract with one of the tech firms out there. I'm hitching a ride. I will take a red eye flight back Sunday night and should be back in time for pancakes."

"So, are you staying with Anita?"

"No, I have a hotel room."

"Awwww…"

"Enough. I had that conversation with Clint. I am not having it with you." He cut the sentence off before she could go too far with it. "How's your week gone?"

"Oh, same old," she felt herself smiling, "But I had a date."

Phil was silent on the other end of the line for a moment. "A what?"

"A date," she replied, "And before you make the obvious dad joke, I don't mean the dried fruit."

"I wasn't going to make that joke but… alright, a date. Do I know the guy?"

"No, I met him at a trivia night. His name is Evan and he goes to the same school. He's studying mechanical engineering."

"And… is this something that will be ongoing?"

"I dunno, I like him. I certainly won't say no if he calls again "

Phil was silent for a moment on the other side of the line for a few long seconds. She could almost picture him sitting there with his coffee in hand, pondering the phone. The silence over the air was heavy, almost palpable.

"Papa?"

"I'm here. I just want you to think on this for a moment, because remember what happened the last time you brought a boy home."

"Oh come on! Matt was an exception. He's the outlier, not the rule. I don't intend on bringing home anyone else who is involved with criminal science organizations."

"Well, I don't know anyone who does that on purpose."

"Well… uh, okay… fair point," admitted Evelyn, "But , really, what are the odds?"

"Probably better than you think."

"Dad, I can take care of myself, alright?"

"I know, I just…" he sighed and it came out as a rush of static over the phone, "I just want you to be careful. We were lucky last time. It's not going to be that way every time."

"I understand, but you don't need to be so paranoid. You know, most people don't have problems with boyfriends. Most relationships go okay."

"True," conceded Phil.

"Like you and Anita."

"Honey," Phil sighed exasperatedly, "There is no relationship between me and Anita. We work together."

"Sure," smiled Evelyn, grateful to deflect the conversation away from her dating life. It was getting awkward to discuss with her father. "But you act like you want one."

"I am rather... fond of her," he admitted slowly.

"Papa, why are you so scared to see her? She's been to my 've chatted with her."

"And e-mailed."

"Oooh," her smile was evident even across the phone lines, "What do you e-mail about?"

"About work," said Phil, "About you. She's really curious about how you are doing."

"Anything else?"

Phil shifted his phone in his hand. He didn't know if it was wise to be discussing his conversations with a lady with his daughter. When he said as much, Evelyn huffed across the phone. He could almost see her little pout.

"Fine, well. If that's the case, it won't be a problem if you take her out for a little date. You know, dinner or something."

"I'm worried that... meeting her might change the nature of the relationship."

"So what? You like her, don't you? It's not like she has let herself go..."

"Evey."

"...and now has eight tentacles and extensive warts..."

"Evelyn."

"...and adopted a hundred cats instead of just one."

"Okay, Evelyn, that is enough."

"What?"

"I'll take her to dinner or something, okay?"

"Make it someplace nice."

"Yeah."

"Oh, and Papa," she said with a devious little giggle, "I don't want to know if you two have sex, so don't tell me!"

Phil dropped the carton of milk in shock, "Evelyn Jane Coulson!"

She giggled again, "Love you, Papa! Bye!"

Phil bent down to pick up the container of milk as the phone clicked in his ear. The line went dead before he could scold his daughter. There were distinct problems stemming from the fact that she wasn't living in the same house as him anymore.

He sipped his coffee and tried to figure out his feelings on the subject. It wasn't that he didn't want Evelyn dating. She was going to eventually and get married and have her own family. He knew that. It just seemed surreal to be happening so suddenly. But there was no time to mull it over because Clint invited himself into the apartment.

It was his habit. By now Phil had adopted an "open door" policy for a few of the young agents. If ever they just needed a place to go, they had an open invite to crash on the couch. Clint took the next step of inviting himself over and rummaging through the fridge for leftovers.

"Earth to Phil!"

There were a pair of fingers snapping by his ear. He swatted Clint's hand away. The young man was smirking at him with half a peanut butter sandwich in hand. Phil supposed he zoned out, lost to his thoughts.

"Is the mother ship coming in to land?" joked Clint as he took a bite of sandwich.

"Just lost in thought."

Clint seemed a bit surprised at Phil's sobriety. He seemed tense, too tense. It was odd for someone who was so unflappable.

"You okay?" asked Clint as he yanked open the fridge to retrieve the milk. He frowned at the dent at the edge of the box, where Phil dropped it.

"Evelyn us going out with a guy."

Clint looked up, "Evelyn is doing what?"

"She's going out with a guy," Phil repeated.

"She didn't tell me."

Phil shrugged one shoulder, "I don't know what to tell you. I'm obviously having a little bit of a… problem wrapping my mind around it."

"No shit!" Clint exclaimed.

Phil checked his phone as it just buzzed. Nick was calling. "Alright, put a lid on the language. We're on the clock now."

It was hard to keep his mind off of the subject of _his_ Evelyn dating. It was tough. It was even harder not to feel a little possessive and jealous. Apparently he didn't do such a good job of hiding it because he had a visitor later that evening.

It was not normal for the apartment to be dark. Normally, the Coulson home was a place of light and happiness. The early days especially were full of joy as the young girl played in the hallway or danced in the light of the midday sun filtering in through the balcony window or made up tea parties with her dolls.

Maria shook her head. It had been a long time since Evelyn had done anything like that. Perhaps it was just peculiar to think of her as being older. She sort of missed having a baby around. It was _so_ weird to think because she never was one for kids. Phil was experiencing the same difficulties but far worse. Evelyn was _his_ baby girl after all. It would explain the darkness and quietness in the apartment.

She poked her head into the dark, "Phil?"

"Living room."

She turned the corner and saw Phil sitting quietly on the sofa. The TV was off and all the lights. He had a drink in one hand. She presumed gin and tonic. That was a favorite of his. Boring, perhaps. But it was a constant. A good gin and tonic would be a good gin and tonic today just as it was yesterday and it would be in a week or a month or a year. He wasn't much of a drinker, so it surprised Maria to see him like this.

"It's not like you to drink."

"It's not like you to come around for an unexpected visit," countered Phil.

"You seemed morose at the office today," said Maria as she settled into the armchair opposite him, "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"So you dropped by just to do that?"

"Well, it was either that or make a scene at the office and I thought you would prefer the discretion."

"Sorry."

"What are you apologising for?"

"I'm an idiot."

"No, you aren't," snapped Maria, "Stop it."

"I'm nervous about Evelyn. I'm nervous about the trip to Portland. And I shouldn't be," blurted Phil.

"Well, I've gathered that much. I think you're being a bit too sensitive. Everything will be fine."

"I… I'm not so sure."

"Okay," muttered Maria, trying to put things together, "So, what's got you so uncertain?"

"Evey... is dating a boy," said Phil, pressing a hand up against his forehead, "And I haven't a clue who this guy is or anything about him."

Maria blinked, "I'm sorry, where exactly is the shock in this? It's not like she hasn't gone out with a boy before. And... now she's a hundred miles away, going to school. She's an adult. She can handle herself."

"What if he tries to..." Phil waved a hand, trying to express his point without going into graphic detail, "Take her virtue? Even worse, what if he breaks her heart?"

Maria snorted to hold back her laughter, "You're kidding, right? She damn near broke Barton's face for catcalling her. Can you imagine what would happen if a boy tried doing more than that?"

Phil took another drink, "I sometimes forget. I sometimes find myself acting like she is just a normal girl. I forget she's... special. She's just my Evey. I... I worry about her."

Maria stood, dumbstruck in the middle of the dark little apartment for a long moment before she finally spoke, "Philip Coulson, that is the dumbest thing I have ever heard in my life."

Phil blinked in shock, not expecting to hear that come out of Maria. She always was a bastion of calm and quiet in the middle of chaos. Absolutely nothing shocked her. Nothing surprised her. There was nothing that anyone could say or do that would get anything resembling a reaction out of her.

"You have absolutely nothing to worry about. She's fine. She can handle herself. She's not helpless. She's anything _but_ helpless. If the guy tries doing anything that she doesn't want, she will break him like a Kit Kat bar. What she doesn't need is someone hanging over her all the time."

"I'm trying to be there for her," he said, "I'm trying to be present. I know I'm not her father but I'm trying my hardest to be one."

"Then let her go," insisted Maria, "All fathers have to let their little girls go at some point in time because they aren't a baby anymore! She doesn't need coddled, she's a grown woman."

"Not yet."

"Close enough," she countered, "More so than I was when I jumped ship."

"Well, she's not you, Maria. I'm sorry about what happened to you. I'm sorry your dad wasn't there. I'm not going to be him. I'm not going to do that to Evelyn."

She stood in absolute disbelief for a long second, "Is that what this is about? Are you trying to... not be my dad? Phil, my dad was a scum excuse for a human being. That's not you. That could never be you. You're better than that."

"I'm trying."

"Phil," she tried to infuse her voice with as much care and consideration as she could. "You're going to be gone for three days, not a lifetime. You're not irresponsible. You're a good man. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a father. And Anita is lucky to have a guy like you interested in her. And I'm not just saying that because I'm boosting your ego. It's true."

Phil smiled and finished off his drink. "Maybe I've had a few too many of these but it sounds like you are coming onto me a bit there, Miss Hill."

"Yeah, no, I'll leave that to Anita," she insisted, taking the glass from him to discourage him for going for another.

"Yes. Although you should know, you are a very lovely lady," he whispered softly, a bit of a blush on his cheeks.

"I don't need your flattery, Phil. I'm fine without it."

"It's not flattery," he insisted. It was true. She was a nice looking woman. Any man would be thrilled to have a girl like her on his arm. True, she wasn't sweet and soft like the so called "pretty girls." She was always in perfect order, regimented, with not even a hair out of place or a step out of line. Her vulnerabilities, if they existed at all, were shaded and repressed until they were invisible. It was strange to think of her as a pretty woman and not a colleague. Even though that statement was not in any way untrue. Had he really never realized how nice her legs were?

"I really do wish you the best," Phil said as Maria stood and took his glass back toward the kitchen, "I just wish you... you know, had someone. You know, someone special."

Maria put the glass in the sink, sighing heavily as she turned on the water, "It doesn't matter. I am married to my work. That is the way it is going to be."

Phil didn't have a response to that. It was a fact that a good many people in SHIELD never married due to the nature of the job. When you were spending the bulk of your time on a flying ship and had to drop everything and go to some faraway corner of the world at a drop of a hat, holding down anything resembling a family life was difficult. Most people married internally because it was the only way to have any sort of regular life at all. The few people who kept a foot on the grid participated in a delicate balancing act full of secrets and lies. He had opted for an unprecedented alternative: to be as honest as possible with Evelyn and taking the chance with the dangers that came along with that.

"What about in the future when you retire and settle down? Wouldn't you want to have a family or something?"

"I can't," she whispered.

"Sure you can."

"No," she turned, snapping the water off as she did so, "You don't understand. I physically... can't."

He stood, dumbstruck in the middle of the room, looking at Maria in puzzlement. The pieces slowly fell into place. His mouth fell open in shock. In all their years together in SHIELD, she never once cared to bring this up to him.

"You can't..."

"Have kids, yes."

"What happened?"

"Tokyo happened."

"Oh," said Phil quietly, remembering the incident all too well, "When you broke..."

"Lower spine," she interjected, "I won't be able to support carrying a child. Not without bending the screws or risking breaking my back again. I might not be lucky enough to avoid paralysis a second time."

Phil looked at her for a long moment, trying to pick out exactly what Maria was trying to get across. She didn't appear sad or upset. More than anything, she appeared to be embarrassed. Phil said as much and was alarmed by the flash in Maria's eye.

"It is embarrassing, Phil! I didn't ask for this and I don't want to talk about it. I'm a defective product, that's it."

"You're hardly a defect," said Phil, "Didn't I just say that you were lovely? It's not flattery, it's the truth."

"Thank you," she snapped, "For the sentiment. But I don't need it. I have my own troubles and you have yours. We're friends, we help each other. But this is something that you can't help me with. Phil. This is something I have to do for myself. You need to let this go."

"Fine," he said, attempting diplomacy, "But you know you never have to do anything alone. You know that… we're family."

"Oh, come on," she snapped, "I know that. You know I know that. Evelyn still calls me 'Auntie,' for Christ's sake."

"Yeah," he said, his voice quiet as he absorbed everything. "You need a place to stay?"

"Eh, I might crash on your couch. I don't feel like driving all the way back to downtown."

"You didn't have to come out here. You could have just called."

"Yeah, no. I had to. Some thing you gotta do face to face," she said, pulling out blankets from the hollow part of the ottoman. "I'm seriously going to fall asleep any moment. It's been one of those days."

"Alright," smiled Phil, pulling her into a slight hug, "You know where I am if you need anything."


	30. pt 3 Ch 5: Stumptown Girl

It was raining gently when his plane landed in Portland. He was surprised how green everything looked. It was beautiful, like stepping into the Emerald City of Oz. Puffs of mist haunted the clusters of Douglas firs and various deciduous trees with a few brown leaves clinging to the moss-covered branches. It was a mysterious place but beautiful as well, the sort of place where anything could happen.

The airport was located a little ways out of town, so he couldn't really see the city skyline. Either that or Portland was a lot smaller than he thought it was. Fortunately, Anita was there in possibly one of the prettiest cars she had ever seen: a pretty powder blue vintage 60's Porsche.

"Phil!" she called, waving her hand. He followed her voice, a smile on his face.

Anita aged gracefully. Strands of silvery moonlight flowed through her long, dark hair. She wore it twisted up in a wire pin adorned with a spray of small white pearls. The fine lines on her face traced years of smiles. Lines around her hooded eyes darkened when she laughed. Dimples on her cheeks winked cheekily when she spoke.

"It's been a long time," she smiled, pulling him into a hug. He had forgotten how short she was and he actually hand to bend over slightly to hug her properly. But it was nice.

"Yeah, it has," he agreed. She helped him load his small suitcase into the trunk and then opened the door for him.

"I have to ask," he said as they turned onto the highway, "The car is beautiful but how on earth did you find it?"

Anita chuckled, "It's actually kind of a funny story. You know my brother is a financial advisor, right?"

Phil nodded. Anita often talked about her brother, Martin. Despite being a mutant, he actually managed to live as much of a normal life as possible. It was obvious she was a very proud big sister based on the smile on her face when she talked about him.

"Well, he had a client named Dave who he worked with for many, many years managing his portfolio. Dave had retired years before and spent a good deal of his time fixing up old cars. Well, about four years ago, Dave was diagnosed with advanced prostate cancer. He was going in for surgery and stuff but the doctors said his chances weren't good so he gathered Martin and his lawyer to make sure all his finances were in order.

"Now, his wife had died about two years previously and they only had one son together. So, he had no real family to speak of. His son was sort of in a bad place at that time. He was involved in drugs and stuff. And Dave didn't want him to use any of his money for his drug habit. So, the will was set up for everything to be donated and for most of his effects to go to auction. But he did not want his car to end up as junk and he was not going to give it to his son because his son had already sold a car that he gifted to him to get drug money. So, he asked if Martin knew anyone who would be interested in taking care of his baby. I stepped up and ended up getting the car basically for free. I only had to pay a dollar to get the registration transferred."

Phil smiled, "So you got this car for a dollar."

"Yeah," smiled Anita, "Dave, bless him, actually ended up beating his cancer. I asked him several times if he wanted the car back and he said no every time. He said he was happy it was in the care of someone who cared about it as much as he did and that's really all the mattered to him. Dave was a great guy. Ended up dying of plain old age about a year ago. But, he was one of the nicest people I ever met."

It seemed now they were getting into the main part of the city. The Portland skyline was sparse, almost quaint, in comparison with the epic spires of New York City. A large, pink-hued monolith was the tallest building along the river, with a few other flat-topped buildings and prismatic spires competing for dominance. The river reflected the gray of the clouds. Choppy flecks of white danced across the surface, kicked up by the east wind.

"That's the Willamette River," explained Anita, playing the tour guide, "It cuts the city in half. We're on the east side now. My office is over at the west side, in what's sort of called the University District."

They crossed over one of the many bridges and wove through one way roads to a quieter part of town filled with trees and older buildings. They passed the sign for Portland State University, tucked in a long park filled with tall trees. Water dripped from the branches into the massive expanses of grass. It was like Central Park but the trees and the buildings overlapped rather than being segmented into neat little boxes. It was difficult to tell where the forest ended and the city began.

"I can't believe how green everything is," noted Phil as they turned up the street parallel to the park.

"Well, this area is called the Park Blocks," explained Anita, "It runs from PSU all the way down to the Pearl. Once upon a time, all of these used to be roads but they closed them down because students protesting the Vietnam War clogged them up. So they just turned everything into a park so they would stop blocking traffic."

Phil laughed a bit at that. It was one way to handle the problem. They pulled into an open space and Phil offered to pay for parking. The buildings were stone with some brick facade. Ivy crawled up the walls, gripping at the rock and staining it brownish-gray. Trees dotted the roads spreading out from the park blocks, spindly limbs among pavement and asphalt, lichen and moss interspersed with graffiti and neon.

"We have to walk a block or two, I hope you don't mind," explained Anita, "This is the closest parking I could find."

"No problem," said Phil, pulling his jacket tighter around his chest, "Doesn't your work pay for parking?"

"No," laughed Anita, "Nobody's work pays for parking."

The idea seemed a bit ridiculous to Phil but perhaps he was spoiled with SHIELD. They needed their work vehicles to be secure since sometimes they were used to transport valuable data or important people. Ignoring that, everyone had enemies. From petty gangsters wanting to get even to international terrorists. They couldn't risk the vehicles being tampered with, regardless of reason.

Anita's building was made of a pretty red stone with columns on the front and brick front steps and a wheelchair ramp. A pair of planters flanked the pretty front doors, filled with rhododendrons and other greenery. It had to be pretty when it was in full bloom. A small plaque made of a dark, shiny stone was engraved in gold with "The Timely Building, est 1939" and contained a full directory of the businesses in the building.

"The fourth through sixth floors are apartments," explained Anita, "We are on the second floor along with an accounting firm and a group that manages technology shipments. The first floor is an advertising agency and a juice bar on the other corner. So, we have lots of friends.

"And the third floor?"

"Managers offices, mostly," she said, "And the security office."

"Do you need the security often?"

"Every now and then," admitted Anita, "When we first opened, it was pretty bad but over the years it diminished. About once a quarter we get some crazy who tries to cause trouble and harassing phone calls are kind of a fact of life. But, we have a good relationship with the security people and there hasn't been a severe incident in years."

"Good," muttered Phil as they came in from the chilly wind.

The inside hall had gorgeous antique pine wood floors, clean ivory walls and some charming crown molding. Anita led him up a staircase to the second floor. It was exquisitely carved of a similar pine as the hardwood floors and Phil wondered if it was part of the original building. The second floor had a peculiar green carpet which cried out to be replaced. The wear and tear marked out a clear footpath. The floor creaked slightly as she led him down to the office door. It was a sturdy door with an intimidating lock. A plaque on the door spelled in gold letters "Friends of Mutants in Action."

Phil didn't expect the office to be terribly busy and was surprised by the amount of activity going on in the wide open space, flooded with blue-gray light from the exterior windows. His eyes fell on the table in the front. A young man in his late twenties sat at the desk, typing on a computer. The most striking thing about him was the bright pink button-up shirt he wore. The second most striking thing was the odd barbed piercing through his lip. He also had a spiky blond haircut (which was apparently a popular thing according to the younger agents) and bright blue plastic-framed glasses.

"Heya, Colin," smiled Anita as they walked in, "Anything for me?"

"Nothing much," said Colin. Phil was surprised by his high voice, "Hannah needs your input for the Christmas party and Mike needs you to sign the congrats card for Ann and Trey."

"Oh my God, has the baby come?"

"At three in the morning! But, she's going to bring their little munchkin in as soon as they get the all clear."

"Aw, put the card on my desk. I'll get it in a minute. I need to show Phil around."

"Is this _the_ Phil?" asked Colin, a sly little smile crossing his face.

"Yes," Anita turned to introduce them, "Colin, this is Phil. Phil, this is our receptionist, Colin Phelps."

"So nice to meet you," said Colin, taking his hand and shaking it with vigor, "Anita has said _so_ much about you."

Phil looked at Anita out of the corner of his eye. She was shaking her head at Colin but he was grinning like a maniac. Anita finally steered him around, introducing him to her coworkers. Some were very obviously mutants, some were not, some were just plain humans like Anita. He couldn't remember all their names.

The office had comfortable seating areas with long sofas adorned with stacks of plush pillows. Glass coffee tables held stacks of newspapers and magazines as well as coloring books for children. There were also private conference rooms and offices for psychological services.

"The mutant demographic has some of the highest suicide rates," explained Anita, "We have tried to reach out and give people options. Let folks alone they aren't alone."

Phil nodded. They had psychological services at SHIELD as well. You had to. The things you see are sometimes things you can't erase from your memory no matter how hard you try. He said as much to Anita.

"I thought you would understand," she said.

"So," Phil tried to up life the conversation, "Where is your office?"

"Not really an office," she admitted, leading him into the maze of gray cubes, "I just have my little island in the sea."

Her space was slightly bigger than the others due to seniority. It had the typical accoutrements of an office space: computer, phone, stapler, and the like. She had a small aloe in a green glazed pot, a desk calendar with pictures of cats, and a plethora of sticky notes. It was mostly uncluttered but not without some loose paper and sneaky paperclips which escaped their container.

"You'll have to excuse my Post-it fetish," she said with a blush, shoving a batch into the top drawer. "I can't help myself. I use them all the time."

Phil chuckled in amusement, "I can think of worse things."

"I know," she smiled sheepishly, "in fairness, people keep giving them to me because they know I use them… daily."

Phil smiled. It was a stalling tactic. There was something he wanted to ask but he wasn't sure how to go about it. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to take this step. The little voice in the back of his head reminded him of Evelyn and Clint pressuring him into making this trip in the first place.

"Could I… I mean, would it be possible," he fumbled a bit but shook his head a bit to clear his thoughts and get his mouth working in time with his brain. "May I take you out to dinner?"

Anita smiled a small, shy smile. "I don't know, I'm… I'm a bit too old for this sort of thing…"

"Please?" offered Phil, "Just once?"

She subconsciously spun a lock of dark hair between her fingers, "Sure. I, uh, I would like that."

"Would you like me to pick you up or…?"

"Sure, sure! Uh, here, I'll give you my address. It's not far from here." She pulled out one of her sticky note pads and wrote her address on it. She had a neat cursive with large loops and a heavy slant. "It's the green house with the maple tree."

He tucked the note in his wallet. "Is six o'clock too early?"

"Six is perfect," she smiled, "Do you need me to drive you to your hotel?"

"I think I can find it," said Phil, "I don't want to take you away from work anyway."

"Oh, you know, work is work," she said with that same shy smile which made her look especially pretty. "I look forward to seeing you."

"I look forward to seeing you too," he admitted. He sort of wanted to do something sweet or romantic for her, give her a hug or kiss her hand or something. But, he wasn't sure if it would come off as suave or creepy. So he said his goodbyes and went to leave. As soon as he closed the door, he heard a shrill voice on the other side.

"OH MY GOD, ANITA! YOU LUCKY GIRL!"

Phil couldn't help but laugh a little. There was a definite spring to his step as he walked out onto the street. The sky may be covered with gray clouds but there was no way it could rain on his parade. He was incredibly happy to finally be able to take her to dinner, properly. It was a bit tough for him to admit it, but Clint and Evelyn were right. This felt good.

Of course, now he had to arrange dinner. He had done a little bit of research before he arrived, assuming that he would take Anita somewhere for dinner. Fortunately, she agreed, otherwise he would have to find dinner for one. If that was the case, there was much less call to impress. With the help of the concierge at the hotel, he found a steakhouse just down the road.

Getting to Anita's proved to be interesting and Phil found himself missing the abundant cabs of New York City. Sure, some of the drivers were jerks and drove like maniacs but at least you could find one when you needed one. Eventually the concierge gave him a number and he called a cab for the evening. He couldn't deny it was slightly stressful taking the cab over to her place and wondering how the rest of the evening would go. But he was more excited than anxious and that made everything at least tolerable.

The house was small mint green victorian style with white trim. There were only a few yards of grass out front. The space was dominated by a weeping maple, almost devoid of leaves by now but still very healthy and supple. A small path of irregularly shaped pavers led up to a front porch with a wooden rocking chair creaking as the wind pushed it slowly back and forth. There was a large front bay window, quirky little architectural accents, and art deco stained glass adorning the upper story windows. The house was charming, like something out of a picture book. After a few knocks on the door, it only took a moment before Anita opened the rustic wood door.

Anita looked beautiful in a long red skirt with a pretty embroidered geometric texturing on it and a fluffy black sweater. Her shoes were shiny black patent leather flats. A pair of small pearl earrings adorned her hair, matching the pin holding her hair up. She had a little bit of makeup on, not much, but her gently slanted dark eyes were highlighted by a touch of brown eyeshadow and defined eyelashes, her cheeks slightly rouged, and a touch of shimmery gloss on her lips.

"I got you a little gift," said Phil, "Just as a thanks from me and Evey."

He handed her a box, wrapped in gold paper and tied with blue ribbon and a bouquet of multicolored gerbera daisies. It had been a trick hiding them from her during the car but somehow he managed it. Anita looked up and smiled, her hands resting over her heart. Her eyes were wide and dark brown, smiling.

"Phil!" she exclaimed, "You shouldn't have!"

"I wanted to do something," he said, "It's not much. It's not nearly enough thanks."

"It's more than enough," she said, taking the flowers lovingly between her arms, "Let's get these some water. Come in, come in."

The house had gorgeous wood floors. They may have been the original hardwoods, polished up and stained a rich dark color. Anita placed a lovely paisley rug in the entranceway, right next to a small distressed wood table with candles and a charming little clock ticking merrily along. The hardwoods continued into her front room where a pellet wood stove warmed the space. A charcoal colored couch and deep armchairs clustered around some quaint glass top tables adorned with more candles and a few magazines. It was a tiny bit cluttered but not a mess. Everything was dusted and the floors were clean. It smelled faintly of cinnamon and cedarwood with the tinge of smoke in the background.

Anita pulled down the green glass vase. She filled it with water from the deep kitchen sink and placed it in the middle of the living room table. It suddenly dawned on him that he probably should have gotten a vase for her to put the flowers in. It would have only been considerate. When he said as much, she waved him off.

"Don't you worry about it. I have a vase."

"I wasn't sure what flowers you like," admitted Phil, "But the daisies made me think of you."

Oh, God… he hoped she would take that as a complement. It was the most sappy line he ever uttered. It was the sort of line that would get laughed out of a Harlequin novel. Where exactly was his brain right now? He needed it back!

"I actually happen to really like daisies," admitted Anita, "They remind me of my mother. They're her favorite flower."

Phil almost sighed aloud. He dodged a bullet there.

"What's this?" asked Anita, picking up the wrapped package that Phil left next to her.

"Just a little something," shrugged Phil with a smile, trying to be casual.

"You've done so much already," she smiled, "Really."

Slowly, she pulled open the gold paper. She was so gentle, so methodical with the wrappings. It was peculiar, almost as if she was afraid of breaking something beyond repair. Under the paper was the familiar blue of Moonstruck Chocolates. She pulled the box open with a smile.

"How did you know caramels were my favorite?"

Phil stammered in shock, "An incredibly lucky guess."

Phil felt something tap on his foot. Looking down, he was met with a pair of gray-blue eyes and a long, fluffy tail. The cat turned his head, scrutinizing Phil carefully as its eyes narrowed. It seemed like the cat was wondering who this stranger was and what his intentions were.

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't introduce you. This is Watson," smiled Anita as she picked up the fluffball and nuzzled the cat's head. He purred loudly at the touch, "I found him when he was a skinny thing on the street and gave him some tuna. After that, he just decided that he didn't want to leave."

"Nice kitty," smiled Phil, reaching out to see if the gray striped cat would let him pet him behind his ears. The cat watched his hand intently, narrowing his eyes with suspicion. Phil touched the velvet-soft tips of the cat's ears. At first, Watson twitched away, but it gave Phil a chance to reach behind his ear and ruffle the fluffy patch of white fur there. Watson made a soft mewling noise but then looked up at him, eyes still filled with apprehension, but more accepting of this strange man trying to get on his good side.

"He's a good kitty," said Phil with a smile.

"Oh, if ever there comes a day that I stop giving him tuna, he would leave me in a heartbeat."

Anita put the cat down and brushed the pale hairs off her sweater. Watson zipped over to his little cushion in the corner of the living room and settled down, watching Phil carefully as he helped her into her jacket and led her out to the cab.

"Is this your first time visiting Portland?" asked Anita.

"Ever?"

"Yeah," said Anita.

"I've been here once," he said, "On a layover at the airport. I will say it hardly does the city justice."

"Have we impressed you?"

Phil smiled. "Yeah. Definitely."

They arrived at the steakhouse. It was a nice place, Phil was glad he decided to make a reservation because it was a little bit busy. But they had a nice table with a view of the busy road. Phil ordered a steak and Anita ordered something with shrimp. Since they were getting a ride home, they opted to split a bottle of local red wine. Anita was eager to explain the burgeoning wine industry in the local valley.

"You need to do a wine tasting sometime," she said, "Oregon is really becoming a big force for pinots. I'm not a wine expert but I enjoy hearing from people who are."

"Anywhere specific?"

"Here and there. Usually folks at the office direct me toward what they like. I'll try anything once."

"Maybe…" he offered, seeing their plates drawing near, "Next time I come by we can plan something?"

"That would be fun," she agreed.

"So, what else can I look forward to?" he asked as they began to tuck into their dinners.

"Well," she paused, chewing on a piece of shrimp, "We can go up to Zoolights tomorrow. It's this light show they do up at the Oregon Zoo."

"Where is it?"

"Up in the Sylvan hills," she vaguely pointed behind her. Phil had noticed her house was located on the slopes leading up to the edge of town. "There is a park up there, Washington Park, and the zoo is located in the middle of it, as well as the forestry center, the children's museum, and the rose gardens. All of them are worth a look, I would say. But you need to see the rose gardens when they're in full bloom, in June."

"I'm sure it's gorgeous."

"It's the pride of the city," explained Anita, "There's a big festival in June celebrating the roses. It's amazing. You really need to come out in summer and check it out."

"I'd love to," Phil smiled, pleased he was being invited back before he even completed his first trip.

They spent the duration of dinner chatting about various things. Anita was curious about Evelyn and how she was doing at college. Phil, proud father that he was, spoke at length about her classes, about her work in the mutant lab, and about the boy she was seeing.

"Uh-oh," Anita smiled knowingly, "How are you taking it?"

Phil considered it for a second, "I am nervous about it, of course. I'm a father, it's what I do. But, you know, I want her to be happy too. If this makes her happy, then, I'm happy for her."

Anita nodded, "I can understand that."

Phil insisted on ordering a dessert. They split a wedge of cheesecake smothered in berries. Anita explained that berries were another common crop around the area. It was a prevalent ingredient in local fare.

"Is there anything that doesn't grow here?" he joked.

"Hardly," she laughed, "To be perfectly honest, this is some of the best land for agriculture. The weather is mild and the soil is rich from the volcanoes."

Phil raised his eyebrows, "Volcanoes?"

"Yes. All the mountains that you see around here are volcanoes."

"All of them?"

"Most of them," she conceded, "But the only one that has been active anytime recently is Mount Saint Helens. Nothing to worry about, for the most part."

"That's comforting," smirked Phil as he polished off the glass of wine.

"You get used to it," admitted Anita thoughtfully, "I suppose you get used to anything if you live with it long enough."

Phil paid for dinner. Anita offered but he was having none of that. It would hardly be gentlemanly. Besides, he could technically count this as a business expense. Maybe it would slip past the accounting department unseen.

When they stepped out of the restaurant and into the night air, it had begun to rain. The sky was pitch black, untouched by the neon and streetlamps. Fat raindrops tapping a melody against rooftops. Phil wished he brought an umbrella and felt foolish for being left without.

"Does it always rain like this?"

"Honey, it won't stop raining until May," smiled Anita.

Phil raised an eyebrow, "How do you get anything done?"

"You just don't let the rain get you down. It's just a little water anyway. Unless water makes you melt," she had a shimmer in her eye, "Hey, I want to show you something. Come on!"

She took his hand in hers. Her hands were small, but strong and pulled him out from under the canopy by the door of the steakhouse and into the wet night. They hurried across the street, dodging raindrops. Phil expected to get incredibly wet but he barely felt the rain as it fell to earth. There were so many people out and about in the rain, and none of them with an umbrella. The city was alive, a beating heart thumbing its nose in the face of adversity. Anita's hand was warm, with callused pads on the fingertips. He became a bit lost in her touch, giddy that he was here in his place.

"This is where the symphony plays," she instructed, pointing to a bank of bright lights, "The Arlene Schnitzer concert hall."

The building was antique, beautiful. A large sign saying "Portland" adorned the front with massive amounts of blinking incandescent lights on the marquee. The front display announced the Christmas gospel concert.

"Are you playing in that?" he asked.

"Yup," she nodded, "I love doing it. The gospel singers are some of the best I have ever had a pleasure of performing with."

"I wish I was staying longer."

"Well, next time," she said, walking with him through the night, "We will plan for something next time."

They agreed to meet up again the next day to see the zoo lights. There was no way to know for sure if the weather would cooperate, but they promised to give it a shot. He dropped her back off at home, making sure she made it inside. He hated to see her go. It was silly, he knew, but he already wanted to see her again.

He spent some time by himself the next day, touring the highlights he managed to research from travel guides. After a little while, he found himself wandering through Powell's Books. The bookstore was immense, several buildings of books. Evelyn would have a blast. He would have to drag her out of there.

There was no particular goal to his trip, mostly he just wanted to explore. There were antique books and shiny new editions. There were displays of small knick knacks and stacks of games and toys. He paused to look at one of these displays. Something caught his eye. It was a package of sticky notes with different kinds of cats on them. It was so random and weird, and yet it almost seemed like he was supposed to see them. He wasn't one to doubt providence and so took the gift with him to the cash register.

"I know this is going to sound weird," he said to the cashier, "But if there anywhere I can get that gift wrapped or put into some sort of gift bag?"

The cashier didn't even blink. She reached under the counter and pulled out a small green paper gift bag. It was a little bit plainer than he wanted but it would do just fine. He tucked the package into the inside pocket of his jacket and eagerly awaited his meeting with Anita.

Getting up to the park was a bit of a trick but he decided to take the train, catching it at Pioneer square and taking a seat. It wasn't raining right at the moment but the night was cold. He wished he had thought to bring a pair of gloves but he would have to suffice with putting his hands in his pockets. Fortunately, the train trip didn't take too long. The stop was actually underground, an elevator leading up to the top of the hill. When he stepped out of the darkness and onto the top of the hill, there was a large parking lot and a massive forest. Spire-like pines pointed into the clouds. He followed the lights and found the gate to the zoo, he paid his way in and looked around for Anita. It wasn't difficult, she was almost right at the gate with a cup of hot chocolate waiting for him. She wore a pair of black pants and a magenta peacoat. A green scarf, the color of the surrounding pines wound around her neck and she wore matching earmuffs and gloves.

"You will need this to keep your hands warm," she instructed him.

"Thank you!" he exclaimed in gratitude, "It didn't seem as cold last night as tonight."

"Ah, well," she laughed, "Do not gamble on Oregon weather. You will lose all your money trying to guess."

Phil felt something bump against his chest as he adjusted his arms to hold the paper cup of hot chocolate near his face, then he remembered.

"This is for you," he smiled, handing the small parcel over to her, "just a little something I saw. Made me think of you."

Curiously, Anita opened the bag. And laughed. She pulled out the package of cat sticky notes with a large smile on her face.

"These are perfect," she chuckled, "I will definitely use these."

He didn't say he got one for himself as well, so he could take it home and maybe think of her every time he had to write a note. Maybe it was silly but he kind of liked it.

"Hey," she smiled, "Let's go see the penguins!"

She took his hand that was not occupied by the cup of hot chocolate and they disappeared into a sparkling wonderland of dazzling Christmas lights. As long as they were hand in hand, Phil couldn't think of anywhere he would rather be.


	31. Pt 3 Ch 6: Take a Break

Evelyn's freshman year was sailing by too fast. It seemed like only yesterday when she was signing up for classes and getting into her dorm. Now she felt like a veteran of the college scene. Her finals were a bit grueling but it wasn't nearly as bad as the horror stories the juniors and seniors liked to tell. She felt they may have embellished the tales a bit to scare the younger students.

Her optimistic outlook was made all the better by having a _real_ boyfriend. Or she assumed that's what they were. They went out together at pretty much every opportunity. Even when they weren't out on a date, they still got together to study when they could. That is to say, whenever she didn't work late.

Granted, it was a bit tricky to explain where she was late at night. The general attitude around work was to avoid talking about the mutant labs and what they were working on so as to keep some of it secret and avoid being harassed as much as possible. Evelyn didn't need told twice for the same reason that she was used to not talking openly about SHIELD. Penelope became her go-to excuse to explain away conflicts. If there was ever a problem, it was because Penelope needed her help with something. Since Josh proposed over Christmas, Evelyn said she was helping Penelope with wedding stuff. So far Evan hadn't questioned anything but she wondered how long she could get away with it before it became suspicious. So far, as spring break drew near, he remained blissfully ignorant.

The day before she left, they spent almost all day together. He took her out for ice cream. The weather was finally nice enough that a frozen treat was refreshing rather than a brain freeze. They walked under the trees as the new leaves formed, clean green shoots popping out of branches. Finally, she saw a familiar truck pull up in front of the dorms. It was Clint's little beat-up pickup. She didn't know he was in the country. Last time she spoke with her father he was on an investigation somewhere in Africa and he wasn't sure how long at mission would take to complete.

"Hey, this is my ride," said Evelyn, snatching up her duffle bag with clothes and personal effects. "I had a good time. We need to meet up when we get back."

"Absolutely," he agreed, "Call me while you get home, alright? I want to make sure you made it up there safely."

"Oh, yeah, totally," she agreed, shoving the bag onto her shoulder.

"Have a great break," smiled Evan. His eyes sparkled in the clean, spring sunlight.

She returned his smile, "You too."

The paused for a moment in the warm spring air, just looking at each other in the eyes. Slowly, he leaned in and Evelyn felt herself freeze in place. Her heart pounded against her chest so hard she thought it would burst. Evan kissed her and she found herself blushing. It was a quick kiss, so fast that her brain was having problems registering it. His lips were gone far too soon and she found herself wanting more.

"See you," he whispered near her ear, his breath warm on her cheek, smelling faintly like chocolate ice cream..

"I'll call," promised Evelyn breathlessly.

"I look forward to it," he said, letting her go.

She turned and almost skipped over to the truck where Clint was waiting for her. She felt warm, happy. It was like nothing she ever felt in her entire life. It was like being cuddled under the warmest blanket imaginable. Her heart fluttered like the wings of a baby bird. She felt a bit dizzy from giddiness but she didn't want to stop smiling.

That feeling drained when she saw Clint's face. His eyebrows were drawn in tightly so his brow became more pronounced. A frown was plastered across his lips. It looked like he was wavering between disapproval and something else, anger maybe. His arms were crossed tightly across his chest, almost like he was trying to cut off his own breathing. He opened the door for her and then climbed in himself without a single word.

"Who is he?" asked Clint as soon as the door was closed.

"That was Evan."

"Evan who? And what was that kiss about?"

"We're sort of dating. It's fine."

"And you didn't think I'd like to know?"

"I didn't think I had to ask your permission to date," snapped Evelyn, crossing her arms irritably across her chest, "What's your problem?"

Clint looked irate, his mouth crushed into a frown. "Nothing. I just didn't know you were seeing anyone. It's a bit of a shock."

"We met last semester and we started kind of going out. I sort of like him and would like to see more of him."

"Where's he from?"

"Around Baltimore."

"What's he majoring in?"

"Mechanical engineering. Jeez! What is this, twenty questions?"

He sighed but it came out a little growly, "Force of habit. You know how SHIELD is. It's important to know people's background. Consider it helping your dad out."

"Well, don't. He can do that for himself."

"Does he know?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I tell him?"

They sat in stony silence for a second. Evelyn found herself chewing on her lip in nervousness. Clint's blunt demeanor and the way he gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were bleached white had her bothered. She thought he had his own stuff to worry about rather than pick away at the minutia of her life.

"So, is this serious or…?"

"Will you stop?" she hissed, his irritation making the jump over to her, "God!"

"I'm just saying," he said, "Does what's-his-face know about… you know, what you do?"

"No," admitted Evelyn shortly, " _Evan_ does not know yet."

"And how do you think he's going to react to it, huh? I mean, you're the one who is always talking about how you have to be separate from everyone else because they're different and they won't accept it."

"You act like he proposed and we've just been hanging out," she retorted, "It's not that big of a deal."

"What if it becomes one, though?"

"Then I'll deal with it!"

"And what if he isn't into freaky taser powers?"

Evelyn bristled at the 'freaky' aspect of that sentence. He had never once said anything like that about her powers in all the time that they had known each other. She flapped her lips uselessly for a moment in shock before coming up with a coherent sentence. "That's uncalled for."

Clint didn't say anything. He kept his mouth shut for the rest of the trip and a stony silence lingered between them. It was an ungodly difficult drive as they battled through traffic on their way back to New York. Evelyn hated it. She wanted Clint to smile and laugh with her. Instead, his words cut into her and the silence was the salt in the wound.

"I could cut the tension with a knife," said Phil as they arrived back in the apartment. "Are you two okay?"

"Fine," said Clint curtly. The icy single word answer castrated the potential for conversation. "I gotta get going. Natasha will be back in town in a few hours."

Evelyn looked around in confusion, "Where's Natasha been?"

"Ukraine. But you would know that if you kept in touch," said Clint over his shoulder. He vanished down the stairs before anyone could say another word.

"Ass," grumbled Evelyn in an undertone as the door snapped shut behind him.

Phil sighed as he patted her on the back, "Give him some time. Let him cool off and he'll come back around eventually."

"He was like that the whole drive up here!" she ranted, "Seriously, what is his problem?"

"He might be a bit worried that he's not an important part of your life anymore," noted Phil, "He's really missed you."

"He's been out of the country. I've had finals and then a new semester starting," blurted Evelyn with no regard for the fact that Clint was barely out of the door and could probably still hear her. "Can you blame me for not being in touch?"

"I understand," said Phil diplomatically, "But have you considered that he may just be lonely? He cares about you and not having you around has been a struggle."

Evelyn bit her lip, "If he cares so damn much, then maybe he should have asked me out himself."

Phil shook his head, "I think you're missing the point."

Evelyn was feeling way too angry and frustrated to even think properly. So she just slid her duffle bag down her shoulder and let it fall to the ground. Her insides felt hollow, like a plush toy with all the stuffing pulled out. Phil seemed to sense her malese because he went over and pulled her into a hug.

"Other than that, how are you?"

Evelyn shrugged, feeling a bit shaky as she returned the hug, "Fine, I guess. Busy with class and work and stuff. Preparing for next year."

"Next year?" said Phil in curiosity, "What's next year?"

"Just… Sophomore year?" said Evelyn in confusion, "I mean, I'm going in for advising and preparing classes and getting stuff together for next year at the mutant lab."

"You're already going in for advising?"

"The head of the pre-med department has a lot of students to place," explained Evelyn, "If he doesn't start early, it won't get done in time. This way, too, we are guaranteed to get into the classes we need. They fill up fast."

"Okay, makes sense," reasoned Phil, "You should have a bunch of credits still transferred over from high school."

"Yeah, actually," confirmed Evelyn, "I can technically be classified as a sophomore now since most of the core credits transferred. I have to take biochemistry next term. But it's okay because I have Penelope to help me study. Other than that, it's just core classes. I'm taking second year history, the world lit class I have to take, and a basic programming class."

"Programming?" asked Phil in interest.

"Well," Evelyn began, taking a deep breath before starting, "I actually wanted to talk to you about something. I talked with my advisor and he said that I can double major in premed and medical engineering and all I really need to do is take maybe six to ten credits on top of what I was already going to take."

Phil paused for a moment to see if she was finished before he started, "It sounds like you've already made up your mind. And you know you don't need my permission to choose a career path."

"I know. But I like your insight."

"Is medical engineering something you really want to do?"

"Absolutely," said Evelyn emphatically, "Penelope and I have been chatting and we think it can help open up some career prospects. I've talked with Evan a bit too and he thinks it's a good idea. Engineering is hot right now and lots of people are hiring."

"You've spoken with Evan about it?" asked Phil in curiosity.

"Yeah. I am interested in engineering and he's studying engineering. I wanted to know what the classes are like. It seemed logical."

Phil's face went stony for a second, "You aren't changing majors just for him, are you?"

"Why the heck would I do that?" asked Evelyn in genuine surprise. It was like the idea never occurred to her.

"I'm just making sure you aren't doing anything rash for the sake of impressing a boy," insisted Phil, "I'm just being a dad."

"I appreciate the thought but you really don't need to worry," insisted Evelyn, "Penelope and I have been talking about this for a while before I even met Evan. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like him. But we're just dating right now. I need a bit more commitment before I go changing my life for him."

Phil shook his head, "You know, you make it easy to be a father sometimes. It makes me wonder what you're up to."

"Okay," smiled Evelyn, "I haven't been up to anything in a long time. My midnight adventures have been over for a few months now."

"I know that," Phil smiled at her, "I was sort of kidding. Sort of."

"Uh-huh," smiled Evelyn knowingly.

They talked for a little while longer before Phil wanted to go to an estate auction he had heard about. Evelyn agreed to go along if for no other reason than she wanted to get out of the house and she didn't want to spend her precious afternoon waiting around for Clint to show up again. It put her in a bad mood and it kept her in a bad mood.

"So, what Captain America merchandise do they have at this one?" she asked as they exited at the auction house, a boxy brick building in Brighton Beach wedged between smaller homes.

"How did you guess?"

"Well, gee, Dad," she shrugged, "Usually when you drag me to some corner of town to look at someone's old stuff, it's because they have some neat little vintage spy or Cap things that you want me to take a look at."

"Well, you're right this time," he admitted, "I am on their email list and they recently had some photos of some trading cards I am interested in."

"Oh, okay," said Evelyn as they pushed open the big shop front doors and walked in. She was greeted by the somewhat musty smell characteristic of antique stores and old attics. It was the earthy, musty aroma of dust and mildew mixed with the sickly sweet smell of mothballs and a breath of piney furniture cleaner. It wasn't a bad small, merely distinctive, the sort of thing which lingered in the sinuses for hours after you left.

The objects for sale were an intriguing mismatch of modern and antique. There were electronics, Christmas decorations, some power tools, furniture of various styles and varying degrees of quality. Some glass cases on one side of the building were filled with jewelry. A few of them looked like cheap costume jewelry but a handful could have been real was a vintage wedding dress made of yards of fine lace, slightly yellowed with age. It was very beautiful but it appeared to be made for someone who was six inches shorter and perhaps fifty pounds lighter. She was looking through a stack of used books and crinkly old newspapers when she saw her father waving her over. He was standing next to a table covered with boxes. Each was tagged with a lot number for the upcoming auction.

"Are these them?"

"Yup," smiled Phil, "These are the ones."

"So, what's so special about them?"

"These are special trading cards," said Phil, a giddy little smile creeping onto his face. He got excited when it came to talking about this sort of thing. "They were originally promotional material for his war bond tour in 1943. But that was cancelled once he entered active duty. The cards were distributed anyway at ten cities. But they are still pretty rare because paper doesn't keep very well. They did two more re-releases. One was in 1954 as a Veteran's Day promotion. The other was for the bicentennial."

"So, which are these?"

Phil turned the cards over in his hands to look at them from all angles, "I'm pretty sure these are the original release… blue backing and halftone dot print job. The '54 release had a red backing and the printing was better quality. The bicentennial had a watermark for the occasion. The last two sets also had cards representing the rest of the Howling Commandos while the original release was only the Captain."

"So, you're sure this is an original?"

"Pretty sure."

"Are you going to get them?" she prodded.

"Maybe," he said, "It depends on how intense the bidding gets. I don't want to spend too much but…"

"...But you want them," finished Evelyn.

"Am I that transparent?" he asked, a sly smile crossing his face.

"Yeah Papa," she said playfully.

They wandered up and down the aisles until it was time for the bidding to start. Evelyn considered bidding on a box of old books. The only problem was that she didn't have any extra room in her college dorm to store them. She would have to leave them at home until there was such a time that she had the room to spare. Other than that, there was nothing else really of interest to her and not much within her price range.

Fortunately, bidding on the cards started low. But it jumped upward in a few seconds. Phil's hand wavered on his card as be prepared to drop out of bidding.

"Ninety five, have I ninety five?" babbled the auctioneer. Evelyn snatched their number from Phil and waved it around. The auctioneer pointed at her. "Ninety five I am bid. Do I hear a hundred?"

"Evelyn!" snapped Phil, "What are you doing?"

"I'm getting you those cards."

"Evey…" he made a motion to grab the card away from her.

"Papa, stop it," she insisted, smacking his hand with the card and flagging it back up for the auctioneer to view, "I've got this."

"Sold!" said the auctioneer, "To number 341."

"You really shouldn't," insisted Phil as she tucked the number back into his pocket and walked over to pay for her prize. It occurred to her that she probably should have checked to make sure the auction house took card before bidding.

"Call it an early birthday gift."

"That's a hell of a birthday gift."

"But you're my Dad. And I don't see you every day now that I'm at college."

"It's still incredibly generous of you. Are you sure you can afford it."

"Stop," she ordered as they neared the counter to pay. It was out of her price range but she wasn't about to tell him that.

While they drove home, Phil bent her ear about the cards to the point where Evelyn began to wonder what possessed her to buy them for him in the first place. She drove so he could get to know the cards and tell her every single, solitary, fact he knew about them.

"They based the original design off the United States seal. It wasn't until after he went on active duty that the circular shield appeared. In later card sets, they used the new shield design. You could only find the triangle shield in the original release. But it was the Veteran's Day release where they introduced the Bucky Barnes card. It was a special memorial card printed only for that occasion. It is hard to get your hands on them now. But my dad had a set he kept in the shop."

Evelyn was only half paying attention to what her father was saying. Her eyes were caught by Clint's familiar car in the visitors parking space.

"Was Clint supposed to be back today?" she interrupted.

Phil paused and looked at it in curiosity, "No, he said that he was going to take Natasha home."

The looked at each other for a second before hurrying up the stairs to the apartment. Evelyn only paused long enough to make sure the car was locked. Phil opened the door and was surprised to see Clint pacing like a caged animal, back and forth across the living room.

"Barton," he said, snapping Clint out of his daze, "What's going on?"

"Tasha's been shot," blurted Clint. He collapsed into the chair, head buried in his hands.

The room fell quiet, so quiet that you could hear was the rattle of air through the vents. The good mood Evelyn had while spending time with her father sublimated into thin air. It was the second time that day her good mood had been spoiled.

"Is she okay?" asked Evelyn, breaking the silence.

"She's…fine. They're keeping her overnight to make sure she's recovering alright," stammered Clint, like he couldn't quite figure out what the words coming out his mouth meant.

Phil walked over and placed his hands on Clint's shoulders. "The doctors at SHIELD are good at what they do. Natasha will be perfectly fine as long as she's with them."

Evelyn sat on the armrest of the chair and placed her hand on his back. His muscles felt tense, like they were woven from Kevlar rather than sinew. His breath came in irregular huffs as he hinged on the edge of tears.

"What happened?" whispered Evelyn.

"She was in Odessa. I guess there was a scientist of some sort she was supposed to extract. Everything was fine until they were on their way to the transport," he choked out in a heavy voice, "I don't know details but the van she was driving was totalled and then she was shot through the hip."

"And the scientist?"

"He's dead."

"Oh," Evelyn gasped. She didn't know what else to say. There _was_ nothing else to say. The mission was a failure. More than that, it was a disaster, a special breed of awful. "I'm assuming this wasn't an accident."

Clint shook his head, "Look, I don't know that much. It's all top secret. But based on what Natasha said, it sounded like an ambush. It's a mess. Today is all sorts of rotten."

"At least she got medical care quickly," reasoned Evelyn, "That's good. It means she's not likely to have complications."

"Yeah, well," he sniffed, "I'm starting to get why you were so pissed with me when I got frostbitten. I didn't know how you felt but now… I think I get it."

They sat there in silence for what felt like an hour. It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room. The only thing to break the silence was Clint's labored breathing. He tried to hide his face but Evelyn could clearly see that he was crying. His cheeks were pink and glistening and he sniffled to keep his nose from running.

"Everything's fucked up," he finally said wetly.

She did not want this to, in any way, signal that she had forgotten their earlier confrontation, but she reached over and wrapped her arms around her distraught friend. Clint clung to her like he was drowning and she was the life preserver. No matter what, she couldn't leave him distress, even if they had unfinished business. It wasn't that she had forgotten it, it was merely on hold until a more convenient time.

"Clint," said Phil finally, patting him on the back to soothe him as best as possible, "she is wounded, not dead. People recover from wounds. What Natasha needs is time and care to recover. Those are things you can give her. But you need to be able to give those to her. Can you do that?"

"Y-yeah," he sniffled. He looked up and his eyes were ringed with red and his nose snotty.

"Clean up," said Phil, "Take a nice, hot shower, get into something comfortable. I'll heat something up for you to eat and make tea. You'll feel better once you calm down and eat something."

Clint was pale, shaking, but managed to make his way to the bathroom. Evelyn pulled out the guest towels and wordlessly handed them to him. She couldn't quash her angry feelings entirely, so the opted to not make the situation worse while Clint was still obviously distraught.

Meanwhile, Phil pulled out a casserole dish of macaroni and cheese and scooped out a helping for Clint. Meanwhile the electric kettle spluttered as the water heated up. It was a new addition to the kitchen, and one which had Evelyn a bit curious.

"Wow, you have become quite a tea drinker," noted Evelyn curiously.

"Anita started recommending brands she liked and I bought a few to try them," explained Phil, "and I'm a pretty dedicated coffee drinker but some of these aren't too bad."

"I'm glad she has good taste, but I am sticking with my daily coffee, thank you very much."

"That's what I thought at first. But you don't know for sure until you try it. I was pleasantly surprised," he said, pulling out a few boxes from the shelving. He picked out a peachy-scented herbal tea and dropped a bag into a mug for Clint. Evelyn opted for the contents of a red tin which smelled like mint. It wasn't bad, but it smelled better than it tasted.

Clint, in contrast, looked shell-shocked still. His wet hair clung to his forehead and big drops ran down his face unimpeded. He barely touched the tea and was picking at his food distractedly. She reached over and stole a spoonful of food off his plate. He noticed. But it wasn't like she was trying to be discreet about it. Surprisingly, he smiled at her. Evelyn couldn't tell what that smile meant. She certainly wasn't quite ready for forgive and forget. But she also wasn't interested in kicking a man while he was down. She excused herself from dinner early and went to her bedroom to unpack.

It didn't take long, she didn't bring much. After all, she was only going to be home for a week. She tucked her well-loved Cap doll into his typical place on her nightstand, next to her old rabbit and a bunch of pictures in frames. Clint and Nat were in one of those pictures with her. Natasha looked uncomfortable but smiled for the camera anyway. Clint had thrown his arms around the pair of them, pulling them close to his sides. She wanted her time with them to be more like the image in that photograph and not like… this. Her thoughts were ripped from her head when she heard the creak of the door opening. She placed the photo back on the nightstand quickly, so as not to appear suspicious, and wipe away the tears that threatened to form in her eyes.

"Hey, um…"

She turned around to see Clint standing in the light of her door. He had never been in her bedroom before. Phil was pretty clear that when he stayed over, he was going to stay in the spare room. No exceptions. The fact that he was standing in the door right now meant that he was openly breaking the rules. Phil would probably come right around the corner and drag him away by the back of his sweatshirt.

"I wanted to apologize," he said so softly that Evelyn almost missed it, "I've been… stupid."

"You're damn right you have," Evelyn said without sympathy.

"I shouldn't have gotten upset with you," he continued.

"I don't even understand why you were upset with me in the first place," admitted Evelyn. Her eyes felt hot, like she was about to start crying again. "I don't know what I did wrong."

Clint hung his head, "You didn't do anything wrong. It's just… I was… I didn't know you were dating and it was a surprise. I don't really know why it made me so upset. But I feel bad and I shouldn't have made you feel bad. So… I want to apologize for it."

Evelyn didn't say anything right away. She wasn't sure there was anything more to say but Clint took a small step forward and was soon sitting on the edge of her bed, next to her. He had a beer and offered her the bottle. Apparently tea wasn't quite striking his fancy either. Evelyn shook her head. He sighed, took a drink, and sat there in silence. Outside the window, the city went on moving. Cars rumbled on the street below them and the lights from homes and businesses made the sky glow like candlelight.

"What can I do to convince you I really am sorry?"

Evelyn gnawed on her lower lip in frustration, anxiety clouding her thoughts so there was a vice-like pressure against her temples. "I don't know. Clint, it hurt for you to act like that and say those things. I was happy… and then you made me feel like I was a stupid little kid who didn't know what she was doing and I'm not. I'm sorry if you don't like it but that just is what it is."

"God," groaned Clint. He took a long drink from the bottle in hand. "I feel awful."

Evelyn felt the words falling from her mouth faster than she could control them. "I know you are upset I haven't been in touch. But you've been undercover. I can't call and chat because I don't even know what time zone you are in. I don't know if I am interrupting a mission. Can you blame me? Really?"

"Yeah," he muttered, "Yeah, I get it. I… I should have thought of that."

Evelyn sighed, "If that's the case, we need to find a system. We need to find some way to communicate so this doesn't happen again."

"How?"

"I don't know. We will find something. Okay?"

"Yeah."

"You don't seem convinced," noted Evelyn.

"Well…"

Evelyn sighed, "Are you jealous?"

Clint hung his head in shame, "I don't know. Maybe a little."

Evelyn didn't say anything for a moment. She wasn't sure if that made things better or worse. But there was a very obvious, very loaded question which demanded to be followed up on.

"Do you love me? Is that why you're jealous?"

Clint winced, like the question was a gun fired right next to his ear. "Yes, but… I don't know."

"What about Natasha? I thought you were interested in her."

"It's… complicated," he muttered, like he was embarrassed of his own pitiful excuse of an answer, "Look, I really do care about you. Really. It's just, it's different between you and between Nat. I love both of you, just… different. I know it doesn't make sense. I'm… I'm confused. I'm lonely without you. I'm lonely without her. I've just been alone a lot lately and I think it's starting to get to me. I go to the apartment and I feel the walls closing in. It's more than being by myself, it's feeling isolated. I feel like nobody cares."

"You know better than that," she scolded.

"I know. It's hard to explain. I just feel kind of empty. I don't wanna be alone. And I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose Nat. It's been a close shave today. I'm… I'm a mess."

"So, we need to find a system," reasoned Evelyn, "We need to find a way so I know when it is okay to call you."

"It's gonna be hard. Our missions are top secret. I don't even know all the details about where I am going at times. Things change on a whim."

Evelyn took his hand, "We'll find a way, okay? I don't want to leave you feeling lonely. I don't want this to happen again."

Clint was silent for a moment. Finally, when he spoke up, his voice was a bit scratchy. "Can I hug you? Please?"

Evelyn pulled him close and he rested his head against her shoulder. His wet hair left a damp patch against her shirt but neither of them cared. It was nice to just have a moment. It was nice to have everything in the open. It was nice to be friends again, forgiven of previous hurts.

"Hey! You two," Phil said from the door, "No funny business. Leave room for Jesus."

Clint laughed but Evelyn felt her face heating up indignantly. "Oh my God, Dad. You know it's not like-"

"I know," he interrupted, "But you both needed the laugh."

They really did. It was actually nice to feel the weight lift off her chest. It was like finally breathing in clean air after holding your breath. Phil bid them good night and reminded Clint that the spare bedroom was the first door on the left.

"I'm serious," he said in farewell, "You know the rules, Clint."

"Yes, sir."

Evelyn waited until her father had retired to his room before whispering to Clint. "Seriously, my roommate brings back boys all the time. I've lost count how many."

Clint blinked, "Is she my type?"

"Seeing as you like women who can kick your ass, I don't think so."

"We all have our… kinks," he said defensively. "I mean, I don't know what yours is, but I'm sure it's something. Something Evan does, maybe?"

Evelyn felt her face getting red again, "Clint, we haven't made it that far. The kiss you saw was the first time we you know, _did_ anything."

"I guess it's good you're taking your time and not rushing into things, especially if it is serious."

"We're just dating, Clint. I don't know how serious it is, really," she insisted, "This is, like, my first real boyfriend. So, I kind of want to enjoy this."

Clint nodded but didn't say anything. He considered the bottle he had been drinking out of but it was empty now. Evelyn tried to decipher his silence.

"Are you okay with this?" she asked.

"Yeah. I mean, I was surprised you were with someone who, you know, isn't used to people like… you," he said weakly, "I didn't think you were going to date anyone outside of SHIELD or the X-men or something like that."

"I'll cross that barrier when I come to it, Clint."

"Alright," he seemed resigned to reality, "just know if you ever have… problems, I'm here for you. And so is Nat. Well, I mean, pretty much all of SHIELD is there for you, but you know what I mean."

Evelyn accepted his offer, assuring him they would do better to keep in touch. And he could beat up any boy who had the gall to disrespect her. By the end of break, they endeavored to find a system wherein they could discreetly contact each other. With that, Clint went off to bed and Evelyn soon changed into her pajamas and crawled between the covers, feeling better about things.

The next day, Natasha was released from Medical. The doctor advised her to keep off her feet until she was healed and not to do anything too strenuous. No sooner were they out of the shadow of medical bay then she stood up from the wheelchair, kicked it aside and strode out to the car.

She had a slight limp and was attempting not to put weight on her left side as much as possible. Clint was carrying a pair of crutches that she didn't seem very interested in using. Other than the glaringly obvious wound wrapped in bandages, she looked fine, healthy even. Her face had a nice glow to it and her eyes had a hint of a sparkle. Clint helped her take a seat and she seemed fine except for a brief wince as she settled into her spot on the couch.

"I am glad to be out of that wheelchair," said Natasha, in the closest she came to an actual smile, "Don't know why they put me in it. My legs aren't the problem."

"True, but you don't want to pop your stitches," warned Evelyn, "Unless you want me to heal you quickly and you'll be up and kicking in a few minutes."

"Don't you dare," insisted Natasha, "I need a few days off!"

"You _need_ it?" asked Evelyn in curiosity. It was peculiar wording and she couldn't help but follow up on it, provided that Natasha would allow her.

Strangely, she opened up a bit. "I want to know who exactly shot me. And I have a hunch. But I need some time to follow up on things and that's time I don't have when I need to be at work."

"Anyone I know?"

"I highly doubt it."

"What's his name?"

"He doesn't have one. He's a ghost."

"Well," said Evelyn, "From another ghost to another, that's one hell of an occupation."

Clint brought her a cup of tea. He had taken to waiting on her hand and foot ever since they got home. Natasha outwardly frowned at him but because she didn't outright reject it, Evelyn got the sense that she sort of enjoyed the attention even if she would never in a million years admit it.

"I swear to God," he said, taking the open seat next to Natasha, "I will break his trigger finger if ever I get the opportunity."

Evelyn raised a quizzical eyebrow at that but decided to let it pass. For the most part, things were back to normal. Three friends hanging out and her Dad proudly showing off his new cards to Clint and Natasha. _This_ was the spring break she wanted.


	32. Pt 3 Ch 7: Red Lines

It was actually a brilliant system. Evelyn and Clint setup a voicemail box. Clint would leave voicemails in a special code telling her when he was out of town. As long as he could find a phone somewhere, he could keep in touch. It was fun for Evelyn to pretend she was some sort of super spy. In Clint's case, he wasn't pretending.

She found she needed the support of a good friend because spring term was more difficult than fall. She didn't mind the challenge, but the work load was extensive. Summer was upon them but she was already planning on taking one of the brand-new summer courses so she could get her second programming class out of the way. Next fall, she was taking another full load of courses. Fortunately, these were going to be more focused on the medical field, her area of interest. Everything seemed to be working out.

Except, she didn't really believe that.

She and Evan began having problems. It didn't seem unusual, all couples had rough patches. But, this seemed to be far more extensive. Thinking back, she couldn't quite put her finger on when exactly it started. It was more a bunch of little things which she, in retrospect, felt she should have taken as warning as they led up to much bigger things.

It was when she got back from Spring Break, they went to a student concert in this little basement bar just off of campus. Evelyn had to sneak in and not order anything lest she be carded. There were so many people crammed into the small space and the music was so loud, Evelyn doubted anyone would notice her. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't hear Evan slide into the booth next to her.

"I'm glad you're back," he whispered into her ear.

She turned to say something but his hand slipped behind her neck and gently pushed her forward. Their lips crushed together. It wasn't the cute little peck on the lips he gave her before spring break, it was something different, more primal. He tasted like sugar, cloyingly sweet on the tongue and with a sharp, bitter kiss lasted for a few seconds too long but Evelyn chalked it up to the fact that he missed her over the past week. But it just felt weird.

The first large red flag went up during one of their dates a week or so later. They were at a sports bar, hanging out so he could watch the Orioles vs Rangers game. Evelyn had no knowledge or interest in baseball. She couldn't even name more than maybe five professional teams and didn't know any players other than Babe Ruth. But it was something Evan was interested in so she decided to tag along and check it out.

"That is _so weird_ ," muttered Evan.

Evelyn had actually not been paying attention to the game and so had no idea what Evan was reacting to. It had been a long day and her order of buffalo wings was singing her name like an angelic choir. "What?"

He pointed up to the television in the bar. The news was on but the sound was drowned out by the ambient noise in the restaurant and the audio from the baseball game playing on the rest of the screens. She squinted at the scrolling text at the bottom of the screen. Apparently there was a mutant protest going on in Washington DC because there was some sort of legislation being considered to allow employment discrimination based on mutations. Kitty had been irate about it when they talked earlier in the week. She couldn't quite figure out what Evan was specifically referring to. The image and the words he was saying didn't seem to be matching up properly.

"The green dude," said Evan. The image on screen focused slightly and she saw one of the protesters had minty green skin. "Seriously, freaky as shit. He looks like the thing from the black lagoon or something."

Evelyn just stared at him, unsure of exactly what she was hearing. "Are you kidding me?"

He looked just as taken aback as she felt, "What?"

She couldn't even bring herself to say anything. She didn't know what to say. More than anything, she couldn't get over the shock of what she just heard. Her tongue was tied in a knot and she couldn't even begin to express her outrage.

"Come on," he said, "Look, it's just weird. They're freaky people. Dangerous freaky people."

Evelyn found her voice again, "But they're still people!"

"Sort of. Aren't they, like, biologically different than humans? A completely different species?"

"But what about people like… like Captain America."

"That's different," dismissed Evan, "Captain America doesn't really have superpowers. He's just a normal guy, you know."

"Well…" that wasn't entirely true. Not really in the slightest.

"Okay, even though he is stronger and stuff, it's not like a mutation or anything. He doesn't… look weird. He's normal. He's one of us."

"But," sighed Evelyn, "What about mutants that look normal. They just… have powers."

"I don't know how that is really better," he said, almost pityingly, "They're almost the more dangerous, you know. You can't tell if they're dangerous or not. They could be reading your mind or cutting your knees off and you wouldn't know until it was too late. And there are ones like that and they're allowed to wander around without any sort of tags."

"I thought people were innocent until proven guilty," said Evelyn, venom sneaking into her voice, "Instead of presumed guilty just based off of what you may or may not be."

"How can you tell either way? I mean, if you have nothing to hide then it shouldn't be a problem for people to know something like that."

"It's not that you have something to hide, it's that you have the right not to be harassed if you aren't actually a criminal and haven't done anything wrong."

"Oh, come on, like you wouldn't totally abuse your powers."

Evelyn bristled, feeling genuine anger building behind her eyes. She tried to breathe and calm down but it was hard. She felt the hair on the back of her neck standing on end as she tried to keep her voice calm and stable.

"There's a little thing called altruism, Evan," she said in the slowest, most careful voice she could, "Not everyone is hard-wired to be diabolical. Most people try to do the right thing."

His voice raised a bit, "But not everyone is a good person. You can't be naive about these things."

Evelyn had trouble finding her voice. She wanted to talk. She wanted to stand up for the mutants, talk about her time with the X-men and how _good_ they were. She wanted to talk about her own powers, her own struggles, and how hard it was for her. But he wouldn't understand. She would be nothing more than another freaky mutant. Maybe eventually he could understand but now… now he was too focused on himself. Bent and folded back onto himself, feeding back into his own reasoning, a snake eating its own tail.

She wanted to pass it off as nothing but rudeness. Perhaps he was just being rude and nothing else. Still, after the day at the sports bar watching the game, she found it hard to spend time around him. Whenever he would call, she let it go to voicemail. But he continued to nag at her attention, a rash which needed to be tended to.

Her fingers felt itchy and there was a pressure in her chest. She hadn't used her powers since that day. Whenever she did, she felt dirty and angry. Evan's words echoed in her ears and she couldn't stand it. How could she have not seen this? So she avoided it as much as she could, ignoring the elephant in the room.

When she finally returned his calls, she used the proverbial college student excuse of having too much to do and too many classes. In her case, it wasn't _too much_ of an exaggeration. But she still found time to call Clint, her father, and even Anita. So, yeah, maybe it was more of an exaggeration than she thought it was.

She sat on her bed, flipping through flashcards while chatting to her father. She needed to memorize organic functional groups and took every chance she could to review them. The first big test for the class was coming up quickly and she wanted to do it well.

"Classes treating you well?" asked Phil, pulling her from her thoughts.

"I have a lot of tests coming up," sighed Evelyn, "And I have MSATs that I need to study for as well."

"Those are coming up already?"

"No, but, my teachers have done a good job of scaring the hell out of me."

"Well, when is it?" he asked. She heard a ruffle of papers in the background, indicating he was probably at work.

"Not for another semester or so,' she admitted, putting the cards to the side for the moment. "I'm too tired. I can't really remember. I have _so much_ homework. I think taking biochemistry and programming the same semester might be my undoing."

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Oh sure," she replied, "I'm just not going to be having any fun this semester. I'm going to be a real party-pooper these next several weeks. Summer isn't going to be much better."

"Is... Evan okay with that?" asked Phil hesitantly.

Evelyn made a little strangled noise, "I don't know... I'm trying to make time but... I dunno."

"Are you two having problems?"

"No!"

Phil was silent on the other end of the line. She was perhaps a bit too quick to deny the problem. He seemed to be pondering if he should press her on it or if he should let her figure this one out for herself. Finally, he spoke.

"You know that if you ever need anything, I am here for you. You have lots of people willing to help you."

"It's fine, Papa," she sighed, "Don't worry."

It was his turn to return the sigh, "You probably won't understand until you're a parent yourself but I do worry. I want you to be happy."

"I am happy," she said, but she didn't even sound convincing to her own ears.

After a few days, she realized she couldn't continue to ignore Evan's messages. She had to respond but she wasn't keen on doing anything big until she figured out exactly what her feelings on the matter were. So, she opted to meet him after her shift at the lab to have some pizza and study.

She was actually moving up in the lab, or moving up as much as an intern could in the situation. Professor McKenzie invited her to assist in one of the critical trials. It was grunt work, putting a series of dishes into an incubator and swabbing them every other day. But she was promised a credit on the paper in exchange for her work.

"Have you considered your internship at all?" asked the professor as they worked side by side.

"I thought I didn't need my internship completed until senior year." asked Evelyn as she took the swab and tucked it into the sterile container.

"That is correct," he acknowledged, "But internships tend to go fast, particularly since the medical field is so competitive. It does not hurt to line things up and try to get it done sooner than later."

"I suppose," she noted, "I'll look into it."

"Might I offer a suggestion?"

Evelyn shrugged, "Why not?"

"I have some pamphlets in my office from Stark Industries. They're always asking colleges for interns in various fields. It has been a while since we have directed anyone their way. I'd like to send a few candidates for internships in their direction for the sake of maintaining that relationship."

"What does Stark Industries actually do?" asked Evelyn, "I recall hearing the name but I don't know what they are."

"They are primarily weapons development and testing," explained McKenzie, "But they also have a strong research and development department."

Evelyn paused as she pulled out a new box of sterile swabs. "That doesn't sound like the sort of place for someone going for their MD."

"True," admitted McKenzie, "I just thought since you also expressed an interest in engineering, it might be worth taking into consideration. They have lots of opportunities, not just with weapons. It could be that there is something to do with medical in there. And an internship is a good way to get a paying job or at least a scholarship."

Evelyn paused to mull it over. The idea of having a leg up to get a job was not a bad thing. Extra money to pay for college was also very much not a bad thing. But the idea of working for a weapons company just didn't quite sit well in her chest.

"At least take a flyer," requested McKenzie, "You don't have to make a decision right now. Deadline for next year isn't until the end of June."

Evelyn took one of the pamphlets but made no promises. She was walking out the door when she heard a car peel off into the night. The days were getting longer but the sun had just sank below the horizon and most of the street was dark. Streetlamps provided the bulk of the light. She could barely make out the noisy car as a small blue car with the left tail light out. The back of her neck tickled and she turned to look back at the building.

Big red spray-painted letters spelled out the word "freak" across the front glass walls, where the car had crashed only last semester. There was something slimy on the front of the facade as well. Evelyn took a few steps closer and noticed that it was egg. She sighed, the conversation with Evan still fresh in her mind as she went back inside to speak with Professor McKenzie about the fresh vandalism.

The entire debacle made her late meeting up with Evan at the library. He hugged her when they met and she was a bit relieved that he didn't try to kiss her. Guilt flooded her for feeling that way but she quickly pushed all of it to the side. He packed up his books and they made their way out to his car. It didn't quite register in her head that Evan drove a small blue car until he hit the key fob to unlock the doors.

"Your left tail light is out," noted Evelyn, feeling her palms sweat a bit.

He turned and looked, "Huh. Must've just happened. Guess I'll need to drop this thing by the shop."

She didn't want to get in the car but she didn't want to let him know how uncomfortable she was. She didn't want to reveal that she knew what she knew. She didn't even want to believe it was possible that he was at all involved. Her mind raced for alternative explanations. It was dark on the street, the car she saw could have been black or green. He could have just been driving nearby. There wasn't any direct proof he was involved in the vandalism. It could have been done at any time while she was in the building. Still, despite her mind trying to frantically rationalize what she saw, her gut knew what was true.

"Hey?" said Evan, waving a hand in front of her face, "Are you still with me?"

"Y-yeah. Sorry, I just… remembered something that I need to do. It's nothing." He looked dubious. She hurried to arrange her face and make herself appear less suspicious. "Really. It's nothing. don't worry."

They drove to a little pizza joint slightly out of the way of campus. Usually they didn't head out this far but he insisted it was the best pizza place she would ever eat at in her life. She doubted that, but was willing to give it a try. It must have been pretty good because there was no parking anywhere around the shop and they had to park the car a few blocks away.

It was a nice place with sleek tile floors, bright walls, and lots of chrome and reflective surfaces. She could see the pizza oven in the back, with large flames roaring behind a cast-iron grate. She couldn't help but see it as a sign.

"You seem anxious," he noted.

"Am I?" she deflected

"Well, slightly," he conceded, "You won't stop tapping your finger."

Evelyn stopped and clenched her fist. She didn't even realize she was tapping until he brought it to her attention. She didn't want to explain her nervousness but fortunately she didn't have to because the pizza they ordered arrived.

Through the years she had learned to lie at social events involving food as she ate quite a bit more than the average person. Discreetly, she would eat high carb and protein items consistently throughout the day and splurge at meal times, lying that she hadn't eaten much or had worked out quite a bit. Which wasn't that much of a lie considering she would run from campus to the train tracks out of town, lift the unused cars until her limbs ached and run back in time for morning classes. Tonight was no exception, she ordered a medium pizza full of toppings to satisfy her current hunger.

"You were hungry tonight." he commented as she finished her meal.

"I hadn't eaten since lunch. I was doing assignments, preparing for Biochem finals, yuck."

"Did you figure out if you could double major?"

"Yeah," she noted nervously, "I'm taking some prerequisite classes right now. I'll be able to dig into the meat and potatoes starting next semester."

"Cool. We might have some classes together." She didn't know how to feel about that so she just amicably smiled. He continued anyway, "I, uh, saw you had a flyer for Stark Industries."

Evelyn looked down at her bag and saw the flyer snagged against one of the inside pockets so it stuck out the top. She shoved it back down into the depths. "Yeah. I had a professor recommend an internship there."

"Really? That would be cool," he smiled, "You know, my dad's accounting firm might have an 'in' there somewhere. It would be cool if we both got in."

"I'm on the fence about it," she said quickly, "It's not really a place for a medical professional. And that is my priority."

"I heard a rumor that Stark wants to expand their current holdings," he commented between bites of pizza, "you never know. Might end up being something."

They finished up the pizza and started to walk into the night. Evan had suggested heading into town and finding something else to do, but Evelyn was meeting up with Kitty the next day and wanted to get to bed early so she could spend all day with her friend. So they began the walk back toward the car. They were right in the middle of the crosswalk, with the light in their favor, when it happened.

She heard the car before she saw it. The tires squealed as the driver threw on the brakes. Evelyn turned quickly, seeing the headlights drawing near faster than they could escape. Instinct took over as the car barrelled right at them. In an instant, she bent her knees to lower her center of gravity. She held one arm out, pressing into the hood of the car so it crunched under her hand. Her other arm reached toward Evan to throw him out of the way.

It wasn't nearly fast enough. As Evan fell out of the way, the tire of the car ran over his leg. She heard the snap of bone and flinched at that all-too-familiar sound. The car, however, came to a stop on her hand, enveloping around her. Someone inside the car screamed. Evelyn wasn't sure exactly what they were screaming about: the fact they had hit someone or the fact that the someone they hit didn't go flying over the hood.

Their problem would have to wait. Evelyn dropped to her knees and to look at Evan's injuries. He moaned in pain, his voice cracking a bit. The car was still pinning him down so she shoved it off and freed his leg. Evelyn bit her lip, processing her options. She could wait for the ambulance to arrive, but it seemed like an awful thing to do when there was something she could do to help. Now was the time for him to know the truth.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling her stomach turn inside out, "It's for your own good. I'm sorry!"

She placed a hand on his leg and he winced. His leg was bent so his knee faced up but his foot fell awkwardly inward. There was a crimson smear of blood blossoming at the knee and shin of his jeans. Blue light began to glow around her hand as she pressed into his leg. With a sucking noise and then a crack, the bone snapped back into place. Evan screamed aloud for a second. Bone knit itself back together and the skin sealed up the injury. His groans of agony turned into panting and then he looked at her with wide eyes.

"What? _What?_ "

"Relax," ordered Evelyn, "You need to relax or else it won't heal."

" _What_ are you?"

"Damnit! I'm a med student, Evan! I know what I'm doing," she babbled, focusing on her work.

A few minutes later, the ambulance peeled over to the scene, lights flashing and sirens screaming into the night. Evelyn stood and helped the two people out of the totalled car. One of them seemed either stunned or intoxicated to the point of incoherence. Evelyn wasn't sure which, but she was sure the emergency responders would know what to do. Evan was sitting in the back of the ambulance while the EMTs helped the lady in the car, who was concussed. He was wrapped in an emergency blanket and seemed numb, clearly in shock. He rubbed his healed leg with a blank look on his face.

"How's your leg?"

The look on his face was a mix of hurt and fear as he realized what happened. "Get away from me…"

She sighed, "Evan-"

"I said _get the fuck away from me, you freaky-ass mutant_!"

She couldn't say she was surprised by his reaction, just disappointed. Some part of her hoped against hope that maybe he would at least hear her out first. Tears welled up in her eyes as she felt the full sting of his words spreading through her chest, paralyzing her breath, and shredding at her heart.

Her feet began running on their own accord. Her brain didn't register that she was sprinting through the streets until she was in a part of town she was not well acquainted with. She was in a park and found a bench to sit on for a moment. Her face was wet but she didn't realize she was crying. Tears simply poured from her eyes without her control or permission. Pulling out her phone she dialed a number hoping he would be awake even at this late hour.

"Evelyn?"

"Clint! Oh, I'm glad you're awake."

"I'm in London, of course I'm awake. Are you alright?"

"I'm f-fine," she whimpered, her lip trembling. There was a definite shake to her voice.

"Ev," his voice grew taunt, "did Evan, did he?"

"I f-fucked up!" Her resolve crumbled, "Evan broke up with me, he called me a mutant. I know it's not bad but it was demeaning none the less… coming from him."

"That's bullshit. What happened?"

"Drunk driver... I think. I dunno. They blew through a red light. I managed to stop the car but it hit Evan and… broke his leg. I couldn't just wait for the ambulance when I knew I could help him."

Clint was quiet on the other end of the line for a long moment, "Did you let your dad know?"

"N...not yet. I didn't wanted wake him."

"I think for this... he would be okay. I'm going to let you go and contact Agent Hill to do some damage control. You call your dad and get cleaned up, alright?"

"You were right," she said, tears pouring down her face without even realizing it, "You were right that he was bad news."

"I don't want to talk about that. I don't want to make you more upset than you are. We'll talk some other time about it. Go home, clean up, and call your dad, okay? You'll be okay."

"When will you be back?" she asked.

"Probably Monday," said Clint. Everything was a 'probably' in SHIELD. Nothing was ever certain until it happened. "I will drive down and see you just as soon as I get back in the States, okay?"

"Okay."

"Evey?"

"Yeah."

"Don't do anything stupid."

"I can't really get much stupider than I've already done."

Clint sighed on the other end of the line, "Don't say that. Things will be fine."

"It doesn't feel like it."

She didn't know how to get back to campus. It took some wandering before she found a bus stop and a map to help her out. The good news was that she was heading in the right direction. She needed some good news at this point. Fortunately, it wasn't too long before she got back to her home.

Despite Clint's insistence, she didn't call her father right away. Not that she didn't want to, she did. But she felt like a mess. Her eyes burned, her cheeks were sticky, and she was beginning to realize her wrist ached a bit. A fading bruise adorned the base of her palm and wrapped around the edges of her wrist like a manacle. Her feet were sore from running. She was tired, beyond exhausted in emotional and physical ways. She opened the tap and began to flood the tub with steaming bath water.

Evelyn climbed into the cloudy bathwater. It was hot, perhaps too hot, as she tested it with her foot. It made her skin feel red and prickly but she didn't care. Everything seemed numb and she needed something to remind her that she was alive. The water steamed around her and she settled into the heat, steam lingering in the air like morning mist.

The door was locked tight, so nobody could disturb her while she was here. The dorms were rarely silent. There was somebody doing something at all times of the day. It didn't matter if it was two in the afternoon or two in the morning, someone was making noise. But with the door shut and the water pouring into the tub, she could trick herself into thinking that she was alone. She needed to be alone. She didn't want to talk about what happened. She didn't want advice. She didn't want pity. She didn't want anything other than to disappear for an hour or two.

When she finally shut the tap off with her foot, the sounds of the dorms continued around her albeit muted from the tiled walls. Slowly, Evelyn sunk her head under the water, leaving her nose and mouth exposed to the air. Eyes closed, ears buried in the liquid, she heard nothing but the pounding of her own heart. Evan's words echoed in her head next to her heartbeat, rattling around like loose change. Her chest tightened and her throat clenched as she went over every word, every hateful word, that he had said during their time together. She was not a mutant yet his hateful words seemed to resonate with her, have power over her.

Evelyn finally raised her head out of the water. There was no relief, no matter where she turned. The silence was equally as oppressive as the noise. Tears began to well up in her eyes. They were tears that she was too proud to shed in front of Evan or Clint or even her father.

She focused in on the dripping of the tap, of the sloshing of the water, as she settled into the steaming hot liquid. If she focused in on something, anything, she might not feel like her heart had been pulled from her chest. But it didn't work.

"God… damn it, Evan," she hissed under her breath, ignoring the echo that resonated around the small chamber, "Screw you!"

Saying the words made her feel like a weight was taken off her chest. She felt anger burn instead, hot like the bath water. She clenched her fists and then screamed. It had to be loud but she didn't hear it. She couldn't hear a thing, she simply felt the rage and the sorrow burst out like an exploding oil rig.

Nobody responded. It seemed everyone was either gone for the night or asleep. She was alone in the water and in her thoughts. She toweled off and pledged to call her father in the morning. Sleep took her over.

When she awoke in the morning, there was a slurry of messages on her phone. Clint called her at least twice, Maria once, and her father called a staggering five times. She called him back first, since he seemed most pressing.

"Evelyn! What happened?" he said as soon as he answered the phone.

"Good morning to you too," she yawned.

"Clint called me in the middle of the night saying you and Evan broke up and there was a car crash? What's going on?"

"Oh jeez," Evelyn sighed, "We were walking home and a car sped through a red light while we were in the crosswalk. I'm fine but Evan broke his leg. I… decided to heal it. And before you say anything about revealing my powers, he would have found out eventually if this thing had gone on. I don't know if it is possible to have a serious relationship with someone and they _not know_. So, I don't want to hear about this being reckless."

"But it was reckless," noted Phil. Evelyn groaned in response. "But that being said, I understand why you did what you did. But is Clint right that you two broke up over this?"

Evelyn looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her eyes were red puffy and crusty yellow gunk clogged up the inner corners of her eyes. The redness descended into the rest of her face, leaving spotty rosacea on her cheeks. Purple shadows gathered under her eyes and wrinkles were starting to carve their way into her flesh. It was all due to stress, she knew. This whole debacle was just another thing to add onto her already large stack of problems.

"Yeah, I can safely say we aren't together anymore," she said in a low voice.

"Okay," said Phil slowly, "But why?"

"Because he doesn't much like mutants," she said, "And he wasn't willing to hear me out about what I actually am."

Phil was silent on the other end of the phone for a long moment. Which was fine, because Evelyn needed a moment to collect herself. Her heart felt tight in her chest, like she was going to start crying again. But she couldn't seem to summon the tears. There was just nothing left. She felt dried out, her tongue felt furry and her throat was developing a slight burn down by her voicebox.

"Evey, honey, I'm sorry," said Phil on the other end of the phone. She hung her head, feeling awful dry sobs scratching her throat.

She tried to compose herself even though her voice was not as strong as she would like, "It's not really a surprise. He was saying some mean stuff a while ago, I just thought it was a bad joke. I thought he was being immature not… not actually prejudiced."

She heard Phil sigh on the other end of the line and she wanted nothing more than a hug. She wanted someone to hold her and tell her it would be okay and that this was all just stupid and she would be happier when it was behind her. Because when she said these things to herself, she didn't believe them.

"Evey, you know I am here to support you in everything," said Phil, "This is no exception. We'll get through this. I'll help in every way I can."

They chatted a bit longer before Phil promised to keep tabs on things and Evelyn informed him that she was going to spend the day with Kitty, who was visiting. He seemed happy she was doing something. It would keep her from moping. Evelyn wasn't sure about that. She changed into a pair of comfortable sweatpants and pulled her school sweatshirt over her head. When she looked in the mirror, she hated what she saw. But there wasn't much she could do to change it right now. So she just grabbed her backpack and headed out the door.

It was nice to see Kitty but she was too tired and too fragile to dig up any sort of enthusiasm. As if in apology, she told her the entire story as they walked through the park.

"I don't know if I want to stay," admitted Evelyn in conclusion, "School in general has been… tough."

"I don't blame you," said Kitty, "That sucks!"

"Yeah," Evelyn tiredly as they drew close to a playground. It was empty. Clouds blanketed the sky and threatened to pour down rain sometime in the near future. They sat on the swing sets to talk.

"So are you and Evan broken up, officially?"

"I guess."

"Are you upset?"

She waffled for a second to try to decide if she could tell Kitty what she was thinking, "Not really. I guess maybe a bit. I guess I hoped that maybe he could… change, or something?"

"Yeah, I don't think you can do that," said Kitty, "Trust me. We've been fighting that fight for longer than I've been alive. You can't change people. People are going to stay the same for as long as they can. They'll pad their nests with whatever they need to stay exactly where they are, regardless of what other points of view you try to present."

"I know," sighed Evelyn as she sat on the swing and began to rock back and forth. "I guess I'll get over it eventually but it's… it's hard."

"I guess I understand," admitted Kitty, "Well, okay I do understand."

Evelyn paused for a long moment, "Kitty? What happened?"

"It's nothing it's just… Piotr… I told him I liked him."

"Really?"

"And he said I was too young to be with him."

"No way! He is… what? Nineteen?"

"Twenty-five."

"Oh wow. He's older than I thought he was," said Evelyn as she rocked back and forth on the swing, "But still… it's not that bad of an age gap."

"Six years. He thinks it is too far. Maybe it is," shrugged Kitty, "I just wish… I wish it wasn't. I really, really like him."

"Perhaps we are both just unlucky," muttered Evelyn, "I'll probably never get married."

"I dunno about that," shrugged Kitty, "There is still a lot of time for us."

"Yeah? Time isn't the problem, it's the fact that I could never act myself with Evan or anyone else I've dated. I eat what a person eats in a week in a couple of days, I bench press old freight trains because I worked past typical training equipment before I hit puberty. I'm at the point where I almost don't care. It doesn't even matter that I don't have a boyfriend. I don't freaking need this kind of … shit in my life!"

It was quiet for a long while as they lazily swung back and forth. A biting wind raced through the trees, numbing exposed cheeks and fingers.

"How are your powers doing?"

"Fine," snapped Evelyn as she jumped from the swing, "Never better."

"Have you used them recently?"

"No, not for a weeks…"

" _Weeks?_ Evey, that's...not healthy."

It's not that she _liked_ not using her powers. It made her feel agitated and jumpy. It felt almost as bad to use them as it did to hide them. Pretty much all she did was heal the small nicks from shaving her legs and the tiny bumps and bruises that go with everyday life. The venom in Evan's voice poisoned her thoughts. She wasn't sure which upset her more, the power that his hurtful words had over her or the fact that she wasn't doing anything about it.

Yet any time she could use her abilities she would get flashbacks of the crash and Evan's venom filled voice in her head. She was frustrated, frustrated at the power his words had over her and frustrated that she wasn't doing anything about it.

"Hey," said Kitty, pulling her from her thoughts as they drew near her dorms, "I wanted to check something with you."

"What?"

"Well, they're opening a new school for mutants in London," she explained, "Professor Xavier has been asking for people to volunteer to help train some of the new teachers."

"He asked you?"

"Yeah. Kurt, Jean, and Logan were asked too," explained Kitty, "Logan said no and Jean is thinking on it. But Kurt is going for sure."

"But Piotr isn't?"

"Not that I know of," admitted Kitty, "I was thinking it might be a good thing, you know. To get away."

"I'll miss you," Evelyn said, feeling the bottom of her heart dropping out.

"It's only for about six months," she said, "I won't be gone forever. We can still call and stuff, like we do now."

Kitty put her arms around her and the two of them stood in front of the door and just held onto each other. She sighed, eyes misting up a bit.

"You'll be a great teacher," complimented Evelyn, "The kids will be lucky to have you."

"Thanks," Kitty replied. They went into the dorms. "You know anywhere around here we can get food? I skipped breakfast and now I'm really hungry."

"Yeah, I know somewhere. Let me run back to my room to get my wallet." said Evelyn as she fumbled with her keys to the dorm floor. "You like Chinese? Dad and I found a cool place."

"I'm following you."

Evelyn paused as they walked onto the floor and saw Aaron standing at her door. It was just odd enough that her hand gripped her keys a little harder. He saw her coming and stepped forward to meet her.

"Evelyn, I'm sorry," he said, "I've called Residence Life and the Dean of Students and they'll be here in a few minutes to help figure things out."

"Figure what out?" she said quietly.

Aaron took a step back and she could see the door to her dorm room clearly. In bright red letters across the wood was the word "freak" spelled out in the same, eerily familiar handwriting.

"Oh no."


	33. Pt 3 Ch 8: Stark Competition

There had been a note too, in addition to the graffiti. Evelyn actually didn't find it until a day later because it had been shoved under the door and happened to get lost in the chaos. She found it crumpled up under her desk with a partial footprint staining the nondescript white envelope. It said typical garbage like 'revealing her secret' and 'seeking prosecution' and 'expulsion from academics." It was unsigned, of course. Evan and whoever he was working with lacked the conviction to let their bile be known publicly. She was assuming it was Evan. Maybe she had no concrete proof but it was the only way all the pieces fit together.

"Can they _actually_ kick you out?" asked Penelope worriedly in the lab a few days later.

"No," said Evelyn tiredly, "Not for having superpowers. There is a proviso in the student handbook about using said powers for academic cheating and another about disrupting the learning environment but I have done neither. More than technically the… incident… in question happened off campus. The school can do nothing."

Anita and her team combed through school policy to see if anything could be substantiated. After reading all school policies from cover to cover, they determined she hadn't broken any rules or any local or federal laws. But she was still "outed" for lack of a better way of describing it.

"I was going to say," said Penelope as she measured something that smelled sulfurous out of a dark brown bottle and a peeling, yellowing label, "If they were going to kick you out for having superpowers but still fund the mutant lab, I'd… I'd quit my job here."

Evelyn rolled her eyes, "Don't be so dramatic."

"I'm not," insisted Penelope, doling the gloppy brown mix in the bottle between a series of graduated cylinders, "Pardon my language, but it would be a steaming load of bullshit. If you're gonna pledge to help people, help people. Don't just do it when you feel like it is convenient for you."

"Well, you can relax," said Evelyn with a smile, "I'm not getting thrown out of anywhere."

"Good," said Penelope, corking the bottle of nasty brown stuff. She continued, "I'm assuming you aren't going to pursue engineering. Since he's in that field and I understand if you don't want to see him again."

"I don't know," admitted Evelyn, "My interests never had anything to do with him. If anything, I feel more driven to succeed now. Sort of to show him that it's not affecting me. Sticks and stones and stuff, you know?"

"Sure. But I can understand completely if you don't want to have anything to do with him," she said, "if you wanted to lay low, nobody would blame you."

"I tried to lay low and look how well that worked out," said Evelyn, with a little bit more bitterness in her voice than she really wanted. She tried again. "I don't want him to feel like he won. I don't want to stop doing something that I want to do just because I'm somehow intimidated by him. That would feel like giving in. I _really_ don't want to give him that kind of satisfaction."

Penelope nodded but didn't say anything right away. It was like she was mulling over the words in her head and trying to place them. Evelyn didn't expect her to understand. She wasn't even entirely sure of her own mind right now. She just knew that she was not going to let him get the best of her, whatever that meant.

"I can tell you this, I'm not going to be dating for a while," Evelyn said to break the silence, "I need a break from that."

Penelope looked at her almost pityingly, "You'll find someone. It might not be right away, but there is someone out there for you."

Evelyn chuckled dryly, "Maybe on another planet, because Earth is doing little to impress me right now."

It wasn't that much of an exaggeration. Ever since being "outed" she had to deal with the fact that everyone and their mother was gawking at her like she was a rare zoo animal. Fortunately, the outward hostility had been sparse after the big act of vandalism on the door. Apparently the Dean had gotten the police involved and called some other people for insurance purposes so her dorm was almost inaccessible and she spent more than a few nights on Penelope's couch. Laura moved out to live with her boyfriend but not before making a snide comment about "rooming with a celebrity."

Working at the mutant lab was a completely different experience. She was surrounded by people asking her questions about her life and her powers. Everyone was curious and everyone had a question and an opinion. It almost got exhausting even though they all meant well and obviously appreciated her presence.

Eli, one of the graduate researchers she had done some work with in the past, cornered her in the kitchenette with a question. "Not try pry or anything, but you don't happen to know someone with abilities involving high energy transference?"

For the life of her, the words sounded like nonsense. She had no idea what any of those words meant when they were put together into that sentence. When she said as much, Eli rolled his eyes a bit and tried again.

"Do you know anyone who can manipulate energy? Shoot balls of energy from their hands? Anything like that?"

"Oh, yeah," Evelyn fumbled, shaking her head in an attempt to rattle her brain back into place, "Yes, I can."

"You can?" his eyes lit up as he pulled up a chair to sit down, "I can't even begin to express how glad I am to hear this. I have a case. I need your help."

Evelyn paused in eating her bowl of microwave ramen noodles, "What kind of case?"

"I'm working with a young mutant girl, Amanda. Her powers are very volatile," he explained, "She has energy transference to the point where she cannot physically control the way her body stores and releases energy, resulting in random but highly powerful exothermic reactions."

It took Evelyn a moment to translate his words from 'researcher speak' into plain English, "So, she explodes?"

"Yes," he said, "Or, she's fine. She's fireproof. But anyone or anything within five feet of her is in trouble. We lost a nurse to an explosion. All that was left was some burned hair, a few fingernails, part of a foot inside her shoe, and a small pile of slightly charged dust."

It was a gruesome image and Evelyn didn't want to mull over it for too long. "That would be a problem. how can I help?"

"Well, obviously, we need to find a way to stabilize her," explained Eli, "so whatever it is that allows you to keep your powers stable, we need some of that. I liked that nurse, so I am not interested in another fatality. I also don't want Amanda to have to live her life in a nine-by-nine fireproof box. That would drive a person insane."

"So," Evelyn put the noodle cup down so she could think on it, "she's a mutant, yes?"

"Correct."

"How old is she?"

"She is a bit on the young side, ten years old. She'll be eleven in a month."

"Could it be that the stabilization is going to be a secondary mutation and kick in once she gets a little bit older?"

"Could be," he agreed, "But, her mutation is affecting her ability to live a regular life. And, at her age, it's very important to be social and spend time with peers. It affects how you develop for the rest of your life."

"True," she conceded. If she didn't have Kitty or Clint, she didn't know what she would do.

"The faster we can come to a solution, the better."

Evelyn's mind immediately flicked back at the X-mansion. She thought of Jean's fits which sent items flinging across the room and the fact she had no control over any of it. She remembered Rogue and the skin-tight gloves she wore so there wasn't even the slightest chance of her causing harm to another person. Both of them were able to lead something resembling a normal life despite the mutations, but both of them had a good deal of support and love to make the process less painful.

"I see what you're saying," she said, throwing the rest of her noodle cup in the fridge for after work. She washed her hands and made her way back into the labs with Eli leading the way.

Since he was a graduate researcher with some clout in the system, he had an office to call his own. It was a small space with blindingly white walls and a small desk purchased at a secondhand store. The chair squeaked in protest when he sat down. He had a small examination chaise in his office for patients. It was tiny but clean. Everything smelled slightly of antiseptic and metal.

"What's your blood type?" asked Eli.

Evelyn paused for a second, trying to remember. "I don't actually know."

She wasn't sure anyone had ever tested for it. Maybe they had at some point in time, during the dozens of blood tests she took for SHIELD and for the X-men, but nobody told her anything about the results. Fortunately, Eli was willing to help and they had all evening to get it done.

He insisted on buying her an orange juice and some chocolate chip cookies from the vending machine down the hall to keep her blood sugar up after he took a vial of her blood. She knew it wasn't a big deal. Most likely, she would have regenerated the blood before he even finished buying the snack. As she munched on a small bag of chocolate chip cookies, he tested samples. After almost an hour of work he finally turned around and delivered the results.

"It's bizarre," he said, taking a sip of his own bottle of orange juice, "Your blood is O positive. But it behaves like… an O plus plus. Not only is it a universal donor but there are compounds there that I don't recognize. I think they are unclassified antigens but I'm not sure. I'm not sure what they do and maybe they don't do anything. I need to do more tests. I may need to take another vial of blood."

"Got plenty of it."

"I don't need it today," he said, "Gotta give you a bit of a rest. Besides, it will take a few days to run tests. I need to figure out what this… is."

"Do you need help?" she asked eagerly.

He paused, "Sure, but I'm gonna be here late. Don't you have things to do?"

"Just homework," she said. Since breaking up with Evan, her free evenings were spent mostly shut up in her dorm reading or feeling miserable. Sometimes she called Clint if he was available but usually he wasn't. Kitty was willing to talk but now that she was over in London, time zones made effective communication tricky. She had restored to calling Natasha just to have someone to talk to but Natasha wasn't exactly one for conversation.

"I don't understand," said Natasha on the other end of the line, "What is it you need?"

"I just need to talk to someone."

"Are you in need of a shrink or something?"

"No, I just need conversation."

"What kind of conversation?"

"I dunno. What are you up to right now?"

"I am currently cleaning out a Glock 19 for firearms testing tomorrow."

"Oh. So, uh, been on any cool missions recently?"

"That's classified."

"Of course it is. How about Clint? How is he doing?"

"I was under the impression you two spoke almost daily through your little voicemail system."

"How do you know about that?"

"Clint."

"He said he wouldn't tell!"

"He didn't. I saw his phone records in his garbage and did some digging."

"You went through his garbage?"

"You can tell a lot about a man by the things he discards."

After that Evelyn decided to not bother Natasha with pointless phone calls and also invest in a paper shredder. So that was why she took refuge in the labs.

It was a bit macabre to assist Eli in processing her own blood samples. He ran a battery of tests on them over the course of the next week, often staying late in hopes of unlocking some clue to assist Amanda. It wasn't odd for him to linger after Evelyn packed up for the night and everyone else had gone. The labs were dark and creepy when everyone else was gone. The halls were a tiny bit too quiet for her tastes. Her footsteps sounded like gunshots as they echoed down the empty hallways. The clock on the wall ticked so loudly she could hear it two room away, marching onward like an army toward the horizon Machines clunked and whirred inside labs, sounding like a metal heart beating inside the cavernous chest of a mechanical giant. She never felt so sensitive to the progression of time and her own smallness in the face of the universe as she did on those late, late nights.

Perhaps that was why she was so surprised to see Professor McKenzie in the lab during that ungodly hour. She was stocking cleaned petri dishes in storage after spending nearly an hour cleaning out the agar, disposing of the biowaste, and sterilizing everything twice over. Her only company had been the ticking of the clock until he came in with a box of brand-new, crystal clean glassware and began restocking the shelves next to her.

"Have you thought any more on it?"

"About what?" she asked, feeling stupid for being as absent-minded as she was.

"The Stark Industries internship?"

Evelyn paused. She hadn't. Too much had happened between when he first handed her the pamphlet and now.

"Been busy," she said but she felt her face subconsciously wince when the words left her mouth. She hated how that became an excuse for not doing things. It became a reason to procrastinate when she otherwise had none. Mentally, she promised never to use that as an excuse again but it was a promise she knew she would break.

"Deadline is coming up," warned McKenzie, "There won't be another chance until next summer. I'm more than willing to write a recommendation for you if you need it."

"Will you?" she asked.

"Of course," he smiled, "If it will get you moving."

Sure enough, the next night, Evelyn found the note in her inbox. She put it in her bag and then promptly forgot about it. Instead, she went down the hall to meet up with Eli.

"How's Amanda?"

"Scared," he said, "We found a very brave psychiatrist who is willing to help. She has a daughter who is a willing playmate for a few hours of the day. It's a token effort but it's better than nothing."

"What about the treatment? Any progress?"

Eli had been working to determine if a blood transfusion or a bone marrow transplant from Evelyn to Amanda may help the little girl stabilize. Today, the results were in.

"I think a blood transfusion would be too risky. There is too many variables. Her body might outright reject the particulars and I don't know if that will trigger a reaction. All we may end up with his another cremated nurse. When I started working on a bone marrow transplant, I came up with another very big problem. I am not sure if her body will synthesize the particulars she needs. I'm not even totally sure how these particulars are made. It may not be made in the bone marrow at all. I need more testing to find out for sure. Everything requires more testing."

The room fell silent save for the faint hum of various machines in the background. Eli had his head in his hands for a second before taking a deep breath and taking a large mouthful of lukewarm coffee. He made a face when he swallowed it, like his coffee suddenly turned to acid.

Evelyn felt two sides of her brain pushing against one another, unwilling to settle for doing nothing."So, there is nothing we can do for her?"

"I can't think of anything at this time," noted Eli as he dumped the bitter coffee into one of the sinks and ran the water to dissipate the acrid smell. "I've just gotta keep working on it. There's gotta be something. I don't want to give up on Amanda. Not yet. Not until I have no other choice."

Evelyn took some comfort in the fact that Amanda was not going to be abandoned. No matter what, she wasn't alone. There was some hope. It might be enough.

"Maybe," she reasoned, "It's time to make contact with Xavier's school. I am good friends with Hank… Doctor McCoy."

Eli hesitated for a moment and then sighed, "We might be getting to that point, yes. I don't know. Part of me knows that would be better for her. If what I want is to keep that little girl from suffering, that's what needs to be done. But, I keep thinking the solution has to be close. I can almost taste it. I don't know what to do. I'm torn between what the ego wants and what probably ought to be done to help Amanda."

"Hank isn't going to try to steal your research or anything," promised Evelyn, "Trust me, he is just as focused on helping mutants as you are. Credit is going to go where credit is due."

"If you say so."

"I know so," insisted Evelyn, "Look, he wrote my recommendation letter to go here. He is all about young people working and succeeding and making a difference. He'll work with you the way he worked with me. I can promise it."

"Sure," he said, cutting off the end of the sentence. He took his mug and announced that he was going to make a new pot of coffee.

Evelyn sat in the lab for a moment, feeling very small and empty. She wanted to help Amanda but didn't know what else she could do. The X-men might be the best thing for her but she wasn't sure she convinced Eli. She felt utterly powerless for the second time in as many weeks.

"I want to help," she whispered as she pulled out her task list from her bag. The flyer from Stark was right next to it. It occurred to her that she didn't actually read the flyer, she just sort of skimmed it.

"The Stark Industries Students of Tomorrow program is designed to allow the brightest students experience with practical research and development. Today's students are tomorrow's innovators and Stark Industries is on the forefront of supporting the inventions and discoveries which will build a better future. Former Students of Tomorrow have taken jobs in research, ecological science, defense, conservation, and lifesaving medical. Apply today and be a leader of tomorrow!"

The rest of the brochure was mostly testimonials of former students. She didn't know any of the people personally but the names of the businesses were well known. The words were a seductive siren call. Innovating, creating, making something to help lots of people, these were all buzzwords which tickled the back of her mind and pushed her forward with the invisible hand of fate.

"I have to be absolutely out of my mind," muttered Evelyn as she filled out the application for Stark Industries. She was still repeating the sentiment as she put the envelope in the mail about an hour later.

She had almost forgotten completely about the internship when she received a phone call some time later to arrange an interview. It came as such a surprise she almost dropped the receiver and had to scramble to maintain professional.

"Yes, we are doing interviews on the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth between ten in the morning and four in the afternoon. What time would you like to reserve?"

"Uh…" Evelyn stammered and scratched at her desk calender to look at her schedule, "The eleventh at one looks good."

The time sailed by. She found herself wondering where the time went as she stood in front of the Stark building up in New York, ready for her interview. Her father drove her over but Clint was going to pick her up at two when everything ended.

"They have to be really desperate for people if they're interested in me," babbled Evelyn as Phil pulled Lola up in front of the imposing building.

"Give yourself some credit," he insisted, "You are a very smart young lady, you learn fast, and you have a wide range of talents."

"I suppose."

"You know it's true," Phil looked at her, "Evey, honey, your self esteem has really tanked since…"

"It's not getting to me," she interrupted, "Really.

Phil looked dubious but let her go anyway with a hug and a fatherly kiss on the forehead. Evelyn walked up to the massive monolith that was Stark Tower. It was a sleek, shiny tower made mostly of mirrored glass which sparkled against the sky. She wasn't sure how many floors it was even though she saw it just about every single day when she crossed the bridge to go to high school. There were fireworks on the top deck every New Year's. The sparkling lights shone so brightly, it could been seen all the way across the river. Yet despite that, she really didn't think that much about what the building was or why it was there, or even why there were fireworks on New Year's.

Inside was all clean white lines and perfectly polished glass and chrome. There was nary a fingerprint besmirching the modern design. And so many people! Evelyn had no idea this many people worked in Stark Tower. Although, it was one of the tallest buildings in the city and it was unreasonable to think all that space would go unoccupied. It's not like the rooms were packed with bubble wrap and Styrofoam. Besides, a piece of real estate in the middle of Manhattan had to cost a king's ransom. None of that precious space would go to waste.

She walked to the elevator at the front entrance and stuffed her way in with about five other people. There was a blond woman in a vibrantly pink designer dress and a black quilted Chanel bag who did her makeup in the reflective surface of the elevator. Two researchers in long white lab coats were arguing something in an undertone. A Japanese man with a neat suit adjusted his tie pin so it was perfectly straight. And a lady with dark frizzy hair and a large leather attache case fumbled through triplicate forms. Evelyn couldn't help but wonder who all these people were and what their role in this giant organization could be. Had she really lived in New York for all this time and never stopped to think about the people in the buildings and what they did?

She was pulled from her thoughts when the elevator jerked upward. It moved faster than she thought it did, perhaps on some kind of vacuum or hydraulic system. Everyone else seemed to be aware of the uncomfortable motion of the elevator but Evelyn was not and she fumbled for the handrail.

Her stomach dropped as she realized how high up she was going to be. Her palms got sweaty and her already nervous stomach felt like it was about to swan dive out her mouth and run away in terror. As the elevator pulled to a stop, she finally managed to settle her stomach as people got in and out and punched buttons for their respective floors. She glanced at her hand and realized she was gripping the railing so tightly that she left a small impression in the sleek chrome. She quickly drew her hand away and looked to see if anyone saw what happened. It seemed not. Everyone was looking elsewhere.

The seventeenth floor couldn't come soon enough and Evelyn stepped off into a level of what appeared to be conference rooms. There were three doors that she could see, each labelled with a number. Her room was 1705 and required a short walk around the corner to find. There were students milling about, probably waiting for their interviews. Some were dressed up, and some were a bit more casual. Some looked nervous enough to be physically sick and others seemed bored. Evelyn was somewhere in the middle, wearing a favorite blue dress and a pair of black heels that Natasha picked out for her. She felt prepared, or as much as she could. It was hard to tell because she wasn't sure what they were going to ask in this interview. It wasn't too long before her name was called and she gathered up her things and entered room 1705.

The room was much bigger than she thought it would be, with high ceilings and a massive conference table that could easily sit sixteen people. The walls were more of the pristine white that made up the rest of the building. The only thing to punctuate the massive walls were huge floor-to-ceiling modern art prints. Squares of scarlet intersected cubes of gold, broken up with blotches of forest green and ocean blue. Four of these prints lined the walls, reaching all the way up to the distant recessed lights. At the far end of the table, there was a man.

"Miss Carlton?" he extended a hand in introduction, "Will Stone. I'm with Energy Resources, the team building the arc reactor. I will be conducting your interview today."

He was a tall, somewhat skinny man with sand-colored hair and eyes the color of two chestnuts. He wore a pale blue shirt and navy slacks but no tie. There was a definite air of "business casual" about him. A steaming cup of Starbucks sat on the table next to his notebooks and papers, perfuming the room with coffee and vanilla cream. Evelyn felt her pulse calm a bit at the familiar aroma. She took a seat next to him at the gigantic conference table.

"So," he began, "Miss Carlton, would it be alright if I called you Evelyn? Or is there another name you prefer to go by?"

"Evelyn is fine," she said. She suddenly wished she had her own coffee because his smelled really nice.

"Alrighty then, Evelyn," he said, jotting something down on a legal pad, "Tell me a bit about yourself."

"Well, I… have lived in New York as long as I can remember. I went to Midtown High School here in town and now I am going to John Hopkins University down in Baltimore. I've been studying science for the past several years and... I love it."

"Your application also says you spent some time in Xavier's School for Special Youngsters. Can you tell me a bit more about that?"

Evelyn sighed. She was hoping that fact wouldn't come up in interviews but now she had to face it. She was fairly certain that she just lost the interview but continued on anyway. "Yes, um, I went there for junior high and part of high school. In part due to my interest in science and the medical field."

Will put down his pencil for a second, "You do understand that legally we can't deny you a job because you are a mutant. So if you are, I would prefer you were upfront about it. That way we can make any accommodations you may need."

Evelyn fumbled. She wasn't sure if she should explain that she went there because nobody had a clue what she was, or if she was just going to roll with the fact that she was a mutant. She swallowed the lump in her throat and continued.

"The truth is… I'm not a mutant, really. I can show you my genetic testing and everything if you don't believe me. The reason why I went there is because… because I had some other medical issues and this was the only place with a laboratory who could do the sort of testing and treatment I needed."

She knew she was playing fast and loose with the truth. Technically it was not incorrect if you considered being able to channel energy a "medical issue." Besides, it was just easier to fib and say she had a medical problem than try to explain something that she didn't even have a proper handle on.

"Will these… issues… have any effect on your ability to perform a job in this working environment?" asked Will, somewhat dubiously.

"Absolutely not," she said with more confidence, "I have already been working in research labs at college in addition to taking classes. I am more than capable of being in a standard working environment."

Will stood suddenly and Evelyn spun her head to see what he was looking at. There were two figures standing in the door. They must have been important or Will wouldn't be standing so Evelyn took his lead and stood. A man and a woman walked into the conference room. The man was shorter, somewhat squat, and balding. But he had a large gray beard to make up for it. The woman was tall, slender as a birch tree, with long strawberry blond hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, and a killer pair of sleek black high heels. The woman didn't walk as much as she glided, strutting with absolute confidence.

"Mr. Stane, Miss Potts," said Will in greeting, "I did not know you were going to be sitting in on interviews."

"Well," Mr. Stane said, putting a clipboard down on the table, "We like to take a look at a few interviews just to see what kind of… students are applying. Please continue, Mr. Stone."

Will looked irked but soon sublimated whatever frustration he was laboring under to continue the interview. He took his seat. Evelyn followed. The high backed chairs were a bit uncomfortable. The seat was firm, the thin layer of padding doing little to provide support.

"You said in your application you graduated Midtown High School with a focus in physical and chemical science. What does that mean?"

"We were a magnet school, so we could pick our focus within the categories of science and engineering," explained Evelyn, trying to discreetly rub the sweat from her palms on her skirt, "I chose that field because my ambition was… is… to become an MD."

"And that is your current major at John Hopkins, correct?"

"Correct. Although I want to take on a double major in the fall and add medical engineering."

Mr. Stane interjected before Will could say anything, "Tell me, Miss Carlton, why do you think Stark Industries could use your particular talents? I find that with someone of your field would do better in another field."

Well, at least he wasn't here for the mutant part of things. Evelyn tried to smile to cut through Stane's condescending tone. "Perhaps it's true that I would be better off interning at the Mayo Clinic or the WHO. But, when I read the pamphlet for Stark Industries, it described helping innovating breakthroughs and helping people. And that is what I want to do. I'm on board."

The woman Evelyn knew as Pepper Potts gave a small smile and a welcoming nod. Will also seemed to have an approving look on his face. She left feeling hopeful but not with an abundance of confidence. Will seemed friendly enough and if he was the one making the decisions, she had a shot. But if Mr. Stane had anything to say on the matter, she should just go ahead and submit an application to Starbucks now.

She hit the button to go back down in the elevator, a sensation that she was not looking forward to but taking the stairs seventeen floors down did not sound like a way to spend the afternoon. When the doors opened, she was shocked to see an unwelcome face among the crowd. Evan was standing in the middle back of the elevator, his nose in the middle of some papers. Evelyn felt her hands sweat and her heart sank. Her guts knotted up into a ball as she prayed he would be too distracted to notice her.

She held her breath as she stepped into the elevator, just passing him. For a brief moment they walked in each other's presence. Part of her felt sick. This was a guy she was interested in, one who at some point in time liked her. At least he cared enough to ask her out and spend time with her. How could it all go so wrong? And why did it have to go wrong in her solitary moment of honesty? She caught a final glimpse of the back of his head as the doors slid shut and separated them, hopefully forever. She exhaled the breath she didn't know she was holding and relief flushed through her bones. There was no room left in her stomach to feel nervous about the sudden drop downward. She was too shaky from her close encounter. Fortunately, Clint was waiting right there in the parking lot and she practically ran to his car and leapt in the door.

"How did it go?"

She shut the car door and sighed, "I don't think I've got it."

"What makes you say that?" asked Clint, blinking in surprise.

"Well," she sighed, leaning against the window, "It was a long shot anyway. I'm not really what they are looking for, being in the medical profession. I think they are more interested in people willing to work on the big guns, no pun intended. I don't think one of their… important people found me all that impressive."

"Ah well," said Clint as he put the car into gear, "Look, you'll have another opportunity."

"I know," replied Evelyn, "And I still have my work at the mutant lab. So, that's something. I'm not out of luck yet. I can probably get a medical internship if I just keep my eyes open and keep doing what I'm doing."

"You know SHIELD is always an option," said Clint as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road, "We would love to have you."

"I know you would," said Evelyn, "But you know my reasons why I'm not there."

"I know. I'm just saying, you should keep your options open. All I'm gonna say, alright?"

She still seemed morose and when Clint asked her about it she sighed. "Evan was there."

"The assbag?"

That made her chuckle a little but not enough to dissipate the little grey storm cloud on her shoulder. "Yes, the assbag."

"What did he want?"

"Nothing. I don't think he saw me," she sighed, "Although if it ends up I have to work with him, I'm just gonna quit. I don't want to deal with that right now."

"Do you think he is joining just to spite you?"

"I don't know. I can't say I would be surprised if he did," she said darkly. "Can we talk about something else? I don't want think about him."

"I don't blame you," said Clint as they fought traffic out of Manhattan. "Are you nearly done with school?"

"I'm nearly done with my first year," she corrected.

"I thought you skipped a bunch of grades because you're a genius."

She rolled her eyes, "I just had credits from high school which transferred to college. I'm not a genius, I'm just good at planning. So I'm technically part way through sophomore year is all. I've got a long way to go to be done with everything."

"Are you going to be working for that science lab and Stark at the same time? Provided you get the job?"

"No, the lab is just during the school year. I am set to continue there in the fall. Penelope is working through the summer but she has an apartment there and is getting married and stuff."

"So I might actually see you a bit this summer," smiled Clint, "I'm planning an afternoon at Coney Island because Natasha has never been there. And it sounds like fun."

"Going to try and impress her with your impressive aim and midway arcade know-how?"

"Hell yes," he said, "I'm know all their tricks. Why not exploit them to impress a girl?"


	34. Pt 3 Ch 9: The Spark

Evelyn could outrun both Clint and Natasha. Between the two, Natasha did a better job of keeping up but she still lagged behind after a couple of miles. Clint dropped out completely after a while and nearly drowned himself in a bottle of Gatorade.

"I am actually alright at running," insisted Clint between gulps of sports drink, "I'm very good at short sprints. You don't want to get in my way when I'm under a mile from you."

"But?" smiled Evelyn stretching out her quadriceps.

"But you two are insane," said Clint as he shook the sweat from his hair, "Seriously. I feel severely emasculated."

Natasha had something like a smirk on her lips. Evelyn recognized it because it was an expression they shared. Clint went to a drinking fountain and stuck his head under the water so it poured across his flushed neck. When he looked up, his face was a similar color of pink and sweat stains adorned his chest, back, and armpits.

"I feel gross," he announced, "Going to hit the showers and try to get some of my pride back."

"Don't take too long," said Natasha, "We have a briefing in about an hour and a half."

Clint made a strangled noise halfway between a groan and a sob as he vanished into the locker rooms. Evelyn started to laugh but was cut off by her phone ringing. The number on caller ID was unfamiliar but it was a New York area code.

"You going to answer that?" asked Natasha as she patted the sweat off her neck with a towel.

Evelyn clicked it open and answered. Her voice was a bit breathless from the exertion but it was passable. The female voice on the other end of the line was clipped and professional, with perky inflections and a girlish, sing-song pattern.

"Am I speaking with Miss Carlton?"

"Yes," Evelyn knew this was a civilian call then and nothing to do with SHIELD.

"Hi, I'm Ashley with Stark Industries and I'm calling to let you know you have been accepted into the Stark Industries Students of Tomorrow program!"

Evelyn paused, "What? Really?"

The lady, Ashley, fumbled on the other end of the line. Evelyn had thrown her off her script. "Ah, yes, really. We're holding orientation this upcoming Monday at nine o'clock in the morning."

"Alright, uh," Evelyn fumbled, "I'll be there."

She hung up her phone and stood there, blinking, for a few seconds while she processed what she heard. Natasha examined her face and then asked that the problem was.

"No problem," she said, "Stark Industries accepted me into the intern program."

"Isn't that the program that your sleazebag ex is in?"

"I don't know," admitted Evelyn, "I just saw him in the interviews. I'm not sure if he got accepted or not."

Natasha had a weird look on her face, "Let me know if you need me to beat the crap out of him or something."

"It's going to be even easier than that," explained Evelyn as she used a gym towel to wipe sweat off her neck, "I'm just going to quit if I have to work with him."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I mean, I don't _need_ the job right now. I still have some money in the bank from working at the lab. Failing that, I can work at Burger King for a few months if I need to. And I'm sure if I keep my eyes open around school in the fall, I can find a medical internship."

"So, this wasn't really something you want to do anyway."

"No, I do want it."

"You want it, but you are already talking about quitting and doing something else before your first day at work."

"No, I mean," Evelyn shook her head, trying to put her thoughts in order, "I am prepared to quit if Evan is there. If he isn't, then I will gladly take the job."

Natasha looked dubious but didn't say anything further. Instead, they hit the showers and met Clint on the SHIELD mezzanine.

"I got the job," she smiled as the drew near.

Clint's face scrunched up a bit as he tried to recall, "Which job?"

"Stark Industries."

"Really? I thought you said you didn't get it."

"It thought I wasn't going to get it, but I guess I was wrong," clarified Evelyn. Apparently she did a really bad job of explaining the situation to both Clint and Natasha. Suddenly that public speaking class her advisor was pressuring her into taking was looking like a reasonable option. "And I still don't know if Evan is going to be there."

"Hey," Clint's face broke into a smile, "Don't worry right now. I propose that we go and celebrate."

"Celebrate?"

"On me," he smiled, "So it's gonna be cheap. But let's get your dad and go have some fun."

Their celebration ended up being a trip to the bowling alley for a few frames and cheap pizza. It was cute to watch Clint teach Natasha how to bowl, holding her wrist in a gentle embrace as he directed her throw. By the end of the night, Natasha had a spectacular run of beginners luck, finishing second behind Phil.

Evelyn was dead last but that was only because she wasn't really trying. If she used her full strength, she could send the heaviest bowling ball sailing clean through the cinder block wall. As cartoonish as that sounded, it was no exaggeration.

"I'm proud of you," smiled Phil between frames. He and Clint had been nursing a pitcher of cheap beer and both their inhibitions had slightly decreased. "You're getting to be an adult. Makes me feel old."

"Oh, come on, Dad," smiled Evelyn.

"I remember when you were a teeny little thing," he continued, "And you lost your two front teeth. So you said everything with a lisp. That was the year you scared the hell out of your teacher by picking up her desk."

"Been awhile since I've done anything like that," noted Evelyn, "I've gotten better."

The look on Phil's face was halfway between a smile and holding back tears. Evelyn reached over and threw her arm around her father. He hugged her close, smiling into her strawberry scented hair.

Her hair had darkened over the past few years so it was less strikingly red and more of a rich, handsome auburn. There were still a few carrot colored strands woven in among the chestnut color but for the most part, her maturation was complete. Her body stopped morphing and shaping like clay on a potter's wheel. She was, physically at least, a woman.

At least some things didn't change, to Phil's relief. Her eyes were the same hazel brown with flecks of green and gold blended in like shades of an opal. She had the same smile as always and her beautiful, stubborn, honest, and earnest personality that he felt himself drawn to even when she was a baby. He was getting wax poetic and shook his head, planting a quiet kiss on her forehead.

"Can I borrow the car to drive into work tomorrow?" she asked.

"Sure thing."

"Any chance I could drive Lola?"

"Not a chance."

"Aw, man, but you let me drive her at prom."

"That was a _very_ extraneous circumstance."

They made their way home and Evelyn, exhausted by the events of the day, tried to go to sleep. However, sleep did not come easy to her at all. Her rest was plagued by an old nightmare.

The green numbers on her alarm clock said it was three ten in the morning but she was wide awake. Her skin was slick with cooling sweat and goosebumps rippled up and down her arms. The last time she had the gold man dream was months ago, possibly years. It was so long ago, she couldn't actually remember a date. But it was still just as frightening as she remembered.

Sleep did not return easily. As she lay in bed, tossing and turning restlessly, she could still see the golden figure above her. His figure was constantly forming and reshaping, like liquid fire while a poisonous green haze surrounded him, choking her. The image was burned into her retinas so every time she closed her eyes, he lingered in the darkness.

She tried to chastise herself for letting it get to her. He was nothing but the boogeyman. He was the proverbial monster under the bed. He wasn't real. But the voice in the back of her head noted that he was too consistent and too detailed to be a childish fantasy. And the implications of that scared her more than the actual dream.

A sleepless night led to a sleepy morning fueled by copious amounts of coffee. Her father had already left to handle a debriefing from an overnight mission so she was left to fend for herself. After a shower and a few cups of coffee she felt like she could function. But she still stopped by a Starbucks on her way over to Manhattan to ensure she stayed awake at least until lunch.

Before going into the internship orientation, she checked her rearview mirror to see how she looked. She tried to look her best this morning, even though she felt a little lousy, and that meant attempting to do her own makeup. She had tried to do the pretty smokey eyes the way Kitty showed her but that ended up making her look like a raccoon so she had to wash her face and try something else. She decided to stick with what had become her classic look: a tiny swoosh of green eyeshadow on the upper lid and her favorite reddish brown lipstick. Kitty said the green eyeshadow made her eyes sparkle. She hoped it actually worked because she could use a little bit of sparkle this morning.

When she was confident that she looked as good as humanly possible, she gathered up her purse and walked into Stark Tower. She admittedly felt slightly more comfortable now that she was at least familiar with parts of the interior. The staff had also been nice enough to set up signs to direct the interns to where they needed to go.

The internship orientation was being held on the ground floor of the tower in the convention space. It was a wide space with glass walls like a greenhouse. Evelyn vaguely recognized this space from when her father watched the news. This was where they usually held press conferences. The sun beating down through the glass made the space moderately warm but not warm enough for her to take off her thin cardigan. White tile floors were cool under her feet and mitigated the temperature. There were several lines of chairs set up in front of a podium with a backdrop showing the Stark Industries logo.

Evelyn surveyed the room, looking for one particular face. There were probably about a hundred interns in the room, maybe more. None of them were especially remarkable nor did she recognize any of them. That was actually a good thing because she dreaded the possibility of seeing Evan's rat face.

There was a line of tables with a paper sign that said "Employee Orientation Packets" and there were a couple of people standing behind the table with file folders arranged alphabetically by last name. Evelyn took a deep breath and walked up to the table. A smiling, blond lady in the bright blue dress was standing behind the file folder labelled A through C.

"Hi, I'm Ashley, I'm one the internship coordinators," she extended her hand and shook Evelyn's as she approached. She recognized her sing-songy voice as the one who called her to arrange the internship orientation.

"Hi, uh, Evelyn Carlton,"

"Carlton… Carlton…" she muttered under her breath as she ran down the list, "Yes, you are with clean energy."

Evelyn blinked. She thought she had been clear that she was interested in the medical profession. It seemed more than a little odd that they would place her here. How did that make sense? But she didn't say anything right now. Her supervisor was the person she needed to speak with on the matter.

"So, if you will take a seat, the opening speeches will begin promptly at nine fifteen."

She wasn't kidding. It was nine fifteen on the nose when Mr. Stane took the podium. Evelyn found herself a little bit downtrodden by his presence. But it made sense because he was apparently someone important in the company so she tried to listen in to what he was saying.

"If you are here today, then it means that you have been accepted into the Stark Industries Internship program. Pick up your packets on the tables on the way out. If you have any other questions, you can ask your department head. We were going to have a few words from Tony Stark, son of the founder of this company. But he is… unable to make this appointment. Instead, we will have a few words from his honorary spokesperson, Miss Pepper Potts."

The tall, slender woman from her interview stepped on stage. Evelyn was impressed by her. A pair of stunningly tall black stilettos made her a towering presence behind the podium. The shoes matched her tailored suit jacket and fitted pencil skirt. The white shirt underneath her blazer was fresh pressed and neat. She had red-orange hair, brighter than Evelyn's, and pulled into a tight ponytail with a tortoiseshell clip. Each strand of hair was straight as a pin. She put a few papers on the podium before speaking.

"Hello and welcome," she smiled genuinely. Her voice sounded clean, neat, and just as well polished and refined as her appearance. "I would like to begin by saying congratulations. All of you were chosen because of your hard work and dedication. We are looking forward to seeing all of you working and contributing to Stark Industries over the course of this summer program. Each and every one of you was chosen because you have potential. You have the ability to do great things. You have the chance to be a part of a great legacy.

"When Howard Stark first developed Stark Industries back in 1938, his goal was to bring together the greatest minds of his era to change the world for the better. He was passionate about innovation and creating new techniques and technology to improve the lives of everyday people. Over the years, the company has succeeded in doing exactly that. From high speed propulsion engines to submarine technology, clean energy to astrodynamics, this company has grown to touch the lives of nearly every person on the face of the earth. Were he here today, Howard Stark would be proud to see how the company has grown.

"And now, you are the next step. You are the future of this company and this world. Congratulations on making it this far and we will all look forward to what the future will bring. I speak for the administration, the board, and the Stark family when I say thank you for being here today."

There was a round of applause. Evelyn joined in. Miss Potts was a great speaker with a strong voice and a calm, easy manner. Evelyn found herself wishing she was that fluent. Mr. Stane took the podium again and requested that they go to the respective offices to meet with their bosses and get the rest of the internship settled.

Evelyn opened the envelope to find where she was supposed to report to. She was surprised to see, not a room number but a single word written in red pen: basement. The word invoked an image of a dark, dank place with slimy floors and walls filled with the ends of worms and muddy standing water. She pictured the nastiest of crawl spaces, filled with spiderwebs and dirty lint. She knew it was unlikely the basement at world renowned Stark Industries was an unfinished mess, but the word basement carried unpleasant connotations. It was a place where unwanted things were shoved away to be forgotten.

Some part of her was incredibly relieved that the basement was a clean, finished space with white walls and shiny black tiles studded with little sparkly flakes. There was a receptionist desk with a computer and a phone but nobody was sitting there. There was a water cooler which gurgled mournfully in the corner. And there were a few plastic plants studded around the space to inject some life into the sunless box. A man came up to shake her hand, a large smile across his face.

"Miss Carlton!"

She struggled to remember his name. It took a long moment but then she remembered, "Hello, Will."

"Nice to see you again," smiled Will, "Welcome to the team. You ready to start?"

"Ready… anytime," she said, feeling a bit shaky and nervous.

"Good. Can you be here at nine tomorrow?"

"Sure," she replied. They made the date, set her hours, and she prepared to get ready to begin introducing her duties bright and early the next morning. In the meanwhile she had paperwork to fill out for employment and direct deposit. Will was nice to walk her through everything and make sure she was doing everything properly. He had an easygoing, perky personality which actually made her feel very welcome.

But despite the positive attitude, a thought wiggled in the back of her head. She hadn't seen Evan here but she felt paranoid that he would pop up the instant she turned her head. For no other reason than to calm her frazzled nerves, she walked back up to where Ashley and the rest of the internship team were set up to turn in paperwork.

"I have a quick question," said Evelyn quietly, "I don't know if you can tell me this but is there an Evan Burr among the interns?"

"Friend of yours?" smiled Ashley as she flipped through the forms.

"Uh, sort of," she lied. It was too complicated for explanation.

She rifled through the papers for a few seconds more. "I'm sorry, I don't have anyone in here by that name. Nobody by that last name at all."

"Okay," she sighed, trying to keep the relief off her face. "Thank you."

Evelyn walked out of the building with a song in her heart. She felt light on her feet for the first time in several weeks. She got into the borrowed car and settling into the front seat with a smile that stretched from ear to ear.

"Screw you, Evan," she smiled to herself, turning the key in the ignition.

It should not be a big deal, but knowing Evan wasn't going to be around for the entire summer was a major relief. She slept better that night than she had in quite some time. When she woke up, she actually felt like she could handle herself rather than stumbling around like a loony bird.

Entering the headquarters for the clean energy department was somewhat intimidating. There were two layers of sealed doors, lined with silicone rubber, each opening with a sticky noise and a hiss. The walls were made of thick concrete and the doors lined with lead. There were decontamination showers and eyewash stations and a closet full of yellow rubber suits. It all made Evelyn a little bit nervous. What exactly was she going to be working on? Will explained that it was nothing more than a precaution.

"We used to work with a bit of radioactive material," he explained, "But most of the decay is complete now and the stuff that hasn't decayed is stored safely off-site."

She didn't want to think about the fact that radioactive material was being carried in and around the city and all the problems that could possibly come from that. If she thought too hard about it, she might start getting actually concerned about the sanity of the people she was working with.

"We still wear the suits when we do maintenance on the inner ring," he explained, "Every three months or so you need to get in there and change out the palladium core and clean up some of the dust. It's trace amounts of silver and a few other elements. Honestly, not much. You get a bigger dose from homeopathy. But we don't want accidents. Or, actually, the higher ups don't want it to be an insurance issue. So if you are cleaning the core, you need to wear the filtered respirator and the full hazmat suit just in case."

What had she signed up for, exactly?

Will was a bouncing ball of energy, eager to show off everything and everyone that was in the office. He grabbed another man who was sitting at a table, bent double over a tangle of metal with a pair of magnifying glasses on his eyes.

"This is Doctor Jay Hauser," introduced Will, "He is really the guy who designed the process of ionic harvesting, the precursor to the arc reactor. He is also the foremost authority in the field of cold fusion theory."

Doctor Hauser was tall, with pale skin and dark hair with a few white threads running through it. His eyes were so dark they were almost black. If she had to guess his age, he appeared to be in his early to mid forties. As far as older men were concerned, he was pretty handsome. He wore a long white lab coat over jeans and a black turtleneck shirt. He extended his hand and Evelyn took it. In an instant, her hand felt encapsulated in ice. When she looked down, his hand was a sickly grayish blue. She tried not to appear alarmed but the panic showed on her face anyway. Surprisingly, he laughed.

"Don't worry," he said, his voice a rumbling bass that she felt in her chest more than she heard it in her ears, "It's harmless. I was tinkering with a small scale model of the arc reactor and got myself silver poisoning."

He held his hand up so she could see it better. His fingertips down to the middle of his palm exhibited a shiny slate blue, like the color of the ocean on a stormy day. The rest of his hand was pretty much normal save for a few thin lines of blue highlighting the veins.

"Is it… permanent?" asked Evelyn nervously.

"Doctors say probably not," explained Jay, "I had to get a series of shots to oxygenate the blood and that brought the color down quite a bit. From here it is a waiting game."

"And that's why we started wearing the suits," explained Will, "That, and you would be surprised at how comfy they are. I'd wear them to bed."

Jay rolled his eyes, "Will, don't you have work things to explain to her?"

"Oh, yeah, right," he said, shaking his head, "Alright, so, do you understand the premise behind the arc reactor?"

Evelyn said she did not. She hadn't even heard of an arc reactor. All she had was the basic, functioning knowledge of how a power plant worked and how her own powers worked. Other than that, it was a bit shameful how little she knew.

Will took a deep breath, paused, and then spoke. "I could really go into a lot of the minutia regarding this. I literally did my Ph.D on this sort of thing so between me and Jay, we can bore the ears off your head. But I would need charts and a PowerPoint so I'll give you the skinny version."

Evelyn was having a hard time keeping up. But from what she could gather, the inner ring contained a slightly radioactive inner ring which released electrons and it was forced backward by gamma rays and as a result the energy moved around in a circle. It was then harvested for energy using some sort of magnetic pull.

And it was right about at that point in time that she started to blank out because he was throwing out words that she didn't fully understand. She liked physics alright but it was never her focus. When he started explaining the mathematical formulas for electron collision, she was totally zoned out.

"Calm down the techno-speak," requested Jay with a small smile. He was starting to notice the glazed look in Evelyn's eyes. "You are starting to sound like a real nerd,"

Will smiled, "I am not just a nerd. I am super nerd."

Jay cracked a smile, "He's not kidding. He cried like a baby during 'Wrath of Khan.'"

"The only people who didn't cry in 'Wrath of Khan' are psychopaths and politicians. But I'm repeating myself."

Jay elbowed Evelyn and whispered, "By the end of your time here, you will be speaking Klingon if Will has anything to say about it."

"So what is my job?" interrupted Evelyn. It was the burning question that she had been holding in since she arrived there.

Jay smiled as Will's face paled a bit as he realized he forgot to touch upon probably the most important part of his spiel, "Ah, yes, right. I got excited. We don't get many visitors and I lost control a bit. You're actually the first intern we ever had. So, I don't entirely know for sure what we are going to do with you. So, for the first few days, I just need you to shadow me and Jay so we can show you around the equipment, daily chores, and things like that. It's not that we have nothing for you to do, we do. We're a small staff that can use all the help we can get. We need to just figure out your role."

"How many people?"

"There are a total of eight of us here, including a few independant consultants. Jay and I are here in the mornings, Alisa and Terry in the evening and weekends, Bob is overnight. Nancy counts money for us. And then we have two colleagues of Jay's who do some consulting work when they aren't busy doing things like figuring out cold fusion and saving the world."

"Why is the operation so small?"

"Ah," he said uneasily, "Budget. We had our total yearly budget halved after we actually got the arc reactor running. So we went from a staff of about twenty to just the eight of us. Jay is lobbying the board of directors to try to offset maintenance costs. So far, not much progress. But we shall see when the next quarterly meetings happen."

Evelyn felt confused. "I don't understand why they would cut the budget."

Will shrugged a shoulder, "We got the thing going and that's really all the board wanted. They didn't realize, of course, that this thing needs to be maintained. Or, really, that there is more we can do with this other than power the building. Like I said, Jay is trying to put things together. So, I need you to take care of some of our paperwork."

Evelyn held in a dejected groan. It wasn't how she wanted to spend her summer. She expected to be doing actual science when she was assigned to the laboratories but she was also the lowest on the totem pole. It would not be reasonable to expect anything more than being the go-to person for busy work. In fact, as she pondered over it later, that was essentially what Will told her she was going to do in his own roundabout way. But regardless, she decided to be happy with what she had. She was getting paid. That was something.

"So, the blue papers need to go to accounting, the pink copies need to go to acquisitions, yellow needs to be filed in here by date. Acquisitions will then give you a weekly report. Make two copies. Send one to accounting and the other one needs to go up to administration on the twentieth floor so they can approve everything." He took a deep breath and set the papers in your hands, "Do you need me to go over it again?"

She said no and hurried to get this task done. As she rode the elevator upwards with a handful of multicolored papers in hand, she realized she had no idea who in administration needed to hand the papers to. She started to fill with panic. The floor was full of unfamiliar faces. There were skinny secretaries in designer clothing and suave financial-focused men in suits and ties jabbering on the phone and throwing out words like "cash flow" and "market shares." The only person she recognized was Pepper Potts and that was just because her brilliant red hair made her so distinctive among the pure white walls and the relatively dull dark steel of the desks and navy blue floor.

"Miss Potts? I have," she flipped through the papers to see exactly what sort of paperwork she was delivering, "acquisitions reports from the clean energy team and… the files from the basement… people. I don't know where they need to go."

"Is it file 017543289?" she asked without even looking up from the ledger she was currently buried in.

Evelyn tried to remember the ridiculously long number while she found the page in question. "Yes."

"Well, shoot. Alright. I'll take these. You can return the others to Will. Actually, don't give it to Will. He will lose it. Give it to Nancy in accounting," she checked her watch, "I am running late. Since you are on the way, can you hand these off to Mr. Stark?"

Pepper handed her a stack of manila envelopes. Since when was any of this a part of her job? She was here for engineering, not secretarial work. Looking around, she was about twenty five pounds too heavy and a foot too tall to be a secretary so that career path was kneecapped before it even crossed the starting line. But she sorted out the mess anyway and made the elevator ride up to the executive floor.

And of course it was the tallest floor in the building and of course it had floor to ceiling windows which looked over nearly all the New York skyline. She felt vertigo tug at the sides of her vision but she swallowed her dizzy feeling as best as she possibly could in favor of striding forward with feigned bravery.

She recognized Tony Stark messing with his phone in the lobby. He was shorter than she thought he was but unmistakably the same man from the tabloids in the shopping market checkstand. He had a pair of red-tinted wraparound sunglasses sitting on his forehead among messy tufts of dark hair and he looked like he just got off a plane from vacation with super casual dark jeans with pale contrast stitiching and a black button up shirt. She found herself a bit surprised at how normal he looked. This was the boss. This was his family's company. She wasn't sure what she expected, but it wasn't this.

"Mr. Stark…"

"Tony," he corrected without immediately looking up from his phone, "Mr. Stark is way too formal… for work."

"Yes, sir," corrected Evelyn dutifully, "Uhm, Miss Potts wanted me to give these to you."

She held out the envelopes. Tony turned to stare at her somewhat expectantly. Evelyn paused for a long moment, waiting for him to take the papers from her. He had brown eyes which had a certain sparkle to them, almost like he was in a state of perpetual amusement. Unease settled into her stomach. Was she doing something wrong? She really didn't want to get fired less than a week into the job. She was beginning to wonder if she had something on her face.

"They're from… uh, Miss Potts..." she murmured uneasily, "Uh, I was asked to bring in requisition reports and Miss Potts said this was supposed to go to you. It was zero seven… five… something."

"You're new here, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir. It's my second day."

"Enough with the 'sir.' That's weird. I'm not old enough to be a 'sir.' Obie is 'sir.' And really it's your first day, technically, because yesterday was full of tours and paperwork, and learning who is boss and Pepper is always right."

"It's a term of… respect," fumbled Evelyn somewhat indignantly as she tried to keep up with all the things he was saying. His mouth was going like Roadrunner and she was the bumbling Coyote. "But yes, it's like that."

"Respect? Really?" chuckled Tony, a wide smile breaking across his face, "Oh, wow… you are new."

"Sir?"

Tony was legitimately laughing now. Evelyn felt her cheeks grow as red as her blouse. Her hands trembled as she backed out of the office. It was the only movement she thought she could manage. Anything else and her knees just may have buckled under her so she would collapse into a heap. Tears wavered at the corners of her eyes.

As the door closed, she sighed deeply in a brave attempt to compose herself. A curse sat on her lips that almost fell out when she realized she was still holding the papers and didn't know where to put them. Quickly, she surveyed the reception room to try and find help. It came in the form of a twiggy blond assistant.

"I can take those," she said before dropping her voice to a low whisper, "He doesn't like being handed things. Next time just set them on a desk. He'll work his way around to them eventually."

"Thank you," Evelyn managed to mumble before scooting over to the elevator and disappearing into the safety of the R&D labs.

And this was just the first day?

Sheesh.

By the time she got home, she was legitimately tired. It was only three o'clock in the afternoon but it might as well have been three o'clock in the morning for how thoroughly exhausted she felt. She instead took the time to do chores she had been putting off. Anything to keep sleep away for a few more hours.

Most notably she had gotten a new phone. Her old, faithful Nokia finally died and now she had a sleek new flip phone. It was much smaller and thinner. Part of her was almost positive she was going to lose it. She went through her contacts, transferring over the old ones to her new phone. There were a lot of numbers she had memorized and quickly transferred: Kitty, Clint, Natasha, Anita, Penelope, her father. But there were a few numbers that she labored over. Evan's number, for example, presented a thorny problem. She pondered over keeping it in her phone, just on the off chance that if the little weasel ever called she would be able to ignore him.

In the end, she deleted it. He probably had forgotten her number months ago. And it wasn't like she was in any mood to stay in touch. In fact, purging his number from her memory gave her a sort of sick sense of satisfaction. It was akin to the feeling after you threw up. It was disgusting, smelled awful, and left a bad taste in your mouth but you had the grim satisfaction that whatever it was that made you ill was now out of your system completely.

As the experience vanished to her rudder, she found herself breathing easier. Her chest was less constricted. She could focus on work and moving forward. She told herself she was done. But there was still an empty, broken feeling somewhere in her chest. A trust had been broken and that was a healing process that wasn't as easy as deleting a number. Still, work was a nice distraction. It helped with healing.

Will was like an excited labrador puppy every morning, bouncing off the walls with unbridled glee every day he showed up to work. Even after being there for two whole weeks, he was as joyful as he was on Evelyn's first day. It may very well have been passion for the job but she suspected he might also be a bit hyperactive. It was either that or his morning coffee was laced with cocaine. He bounded around the office, following her as she filed paperwork so he could bend her ear with stories about the arc reactor.

"We actually had to get special permits and permission from the state of New York to fire this thing up just in case it exploded, blew the local power grid, or… accidentally created a black hole."

Evelyn blinked, "That can happen?"

"We weren't totally sure what would happen," Will said with a nervous, nasally chuckle, "We're talking about throwing lots of particles at each other and seeing what stuck together. So, yeah, we were a little concerned and we didn't have a contingency plan."

"Is it even possible to have a contingency plan for a black hole?"

"Nope," he smirked, "Hey, can I ask your help with something?"

After recovering from that auditory whiplash, Evelyn nodded and agreed to do what she could to help. that was how she ended up in a yellow rubber Hazmat suit, waiting for Will to open the inner seal so they could go in and clean out the inner area. It was a disgusting experience because even though the suits were cleaned after every use, they still had a lingering aroma that she couldn't quite place. It was faintly rubbery but it also had a very human smell, a mix of sweat and something else which was much more unpalatable. It was a smell you got used to and learned to live with even though it was not really a pleasant experience in the slightest.

The maintenance space was only big enough for the two of them to fit and even then they had to hunch over. There was a silvery film along the inside of the unit. It was a very fine, talc-like powder that needed to be removed with a wet-dry shop vac. The suits were sealed to keep the dust out of her respiratory system. According to Will, the remnants were second only to asbestos in terms of wrecking lung tissue. Tiny metal particles got into the system and acted like microscopic knives, tearing at the soft membranes. He went around with what looked like a toothbrush to force the tiny particles out of the workings while Evelyn came up behind him with the vacuum.

She would be lying if she said that working on the arc reactor wasn't a bit like being a kid in charge of the candy store. The sheer amount of energy she was surrounded by at any given time at work was greater than the total amount of energy she had contact with during her entire life to date. It had a positive effect on her. She felt giddy and excited. When she came home at night, she stayed up late because she was completely wired on energy.

The other day, she stuck her head in the inner ring and put her hand in the sparkling swirls of light. It was a bad idea and everyone told her a million reasons why it was a bad idea, but she had to do it anyway. She had to know. The arc reactor buzzed and swarmed like angry bees.

The main ring of energy, which had a technical name that Evelyn could not remember, was out of reach but a few streams broke away from the main arc and shot toward her like lightning to a tall tree. It was like dipping into a cool pool on a hot day. Energy trickled through her body, tickling her face, and making a delicious chill race up and down her spine.

Although she wanted to, she knew she couldn't linger for too long. For one, she would be caught. For another reason, he felt her eyeballs starting to vibrate, her tongue felt heavy and tasted like metal. Part of her was afraid she would make herself sick, drunk on the power swirling inside her body. For a few brief seconds, she was on top of the world. But her thick jacket was singed a bit at the edge. The soles of her shoes were a bit tacky, sticking to the floor as she stepped out.

Even now, as she was cleaning the maintenance area, she could feel the energy reaching out toward her. She would need to let out some steam later, subtly. Usually it was done by healing up her dad's aching shoulder, a leftover from an old injury, or by just letting off a few floating lights. She never let off more than that. She wasn't sure what would happen if she expelled all the energy in her body but she thought it would be devastating, like a bomb going off.

She preferred not to think about it but her mind sometimes drifted into weird places while she was doing menial work like this. It was grueling and her back was sore from being bent double in the cramped space. Her knees were throbbing from being stuck kneeling for what felt like hours. By the time they were done, sweat had broken out on her forehead, her hair was a mess, and she was pretty sure she smelled like rubber and feet.

"Thanks for helping," said Will as he rubbed his hair to somehow get the shape back into place, "It needed cleaned. The big Stark brass is on their way down to check out the arc reactor."

The thought made Evelyn do a double-take. It was highly unusual for the leadership at Stark Industries to drop by the labs. Mr. Stark had his own personal labs he tinkered in and Mr. Stane had very minimal interest in the clean energy department. Stark Industries was a weapons company from the start so if what they were working on couldn't be attached to a missile and blow things up, Mr. Stane couldn't care less about it. The arc reactor did have a bit of promise as an energy source for missiles. It was too expensive to use at this time and too big and unwieldy to be practical. But give it a few years and who knew what would happen? Even though the irony of a clean energy missile was not lost on anyone at the labs. Saving the planet by blowing up terrorists in the most environmentally responsible way possible.

"Are you sure?" asked Evelyn, shaking off the thick suit and thankfully leaving the smell behind, "Could it be a… uh, inspection? Just making sure we're doing our job and not wasting company money?"

"No, it's not that. They want to make it the big showcase at the big party for Howard Stark's honorary birthday," said Will, shuffling off his own suit.

"You're kidding me!"

"Nah, but, it really is a good thing to showcase. I mean, it's clean energy. This will be the next big thing."

"Really?" said Evelyn skeptically. She hadn't seen the figures but given that just about every piece of equipment they used had seen better days, it seemed that Will and Stark Industries had completely different ideas about the 'next big thing.'

He pointed up to the swirling arcs of energy, "This is the solution. To everything. This will get us off fossil fuel dependence. This will get us out of conflicts in the Middle East. It will open up economic opportunities for everyone. This will be the thing that brings us back up to scientific prominence in the world. We're changing everything."

"Really?"

"Give us some time," smiled Will in parting, adjusting his glasses, "And we won't need to be in the Middle East. All the conflict will be a non-issue."

She looked back up at the swirling arcs of blue light. All of a sudden, it wasn't just a job. Life had gotten bigger. The world had gotten bigger. The feeling lingered on her as she made her way home on the subway.

Evelyn had to admit that was a nice thought. It was a nice thing to think about. It was a hopeful look at the future. Will was a bit of a dreamer but he was able to make the arc reactor a reality and convince someone that it had potential. He might be right.

"So who is all is going?"

"Well, if you say yes then just you and me."

"Jay isn't going?"

"Jay doesn't get out much. He spends a lot of time in the R&D labs," explained Will, "Sometimes you won't see him for a few days at a time. It's fine. He'll come out when he needs to eat or sleep."

"Is that healthy?"

"Probably not. But the guy seems okay with being by himself. I mean, not that I blame him. He's had a bit of a tough life." Evelyn didn't want to pry but found herself curious nonetheless. Will explained. "His son died of childhood leukemia."

"Oh no!" Evelyn gasped, "How old was he?"

"He died about a week before his ninth birthday," explained Will, "And on top of that, his wife, or as he calls her 'screaming witch from hell,' was cheating on him during that time with her supervisor. It was a real mess. The divorce battle bordered on biblical."

Evelyn suddenly felt very sorry for the poor guy. The feeling in her chest was almost one of pity. Nobody should have to deal with that much going on at once. She couldn't even figure out what the worst part of it was. Now, her own problems with Evan seemed petty and unimportant. There was no way she could feel bad about something that like when people had it far worse.

"Is he okay?"

"He is now," said Will, "When I first met him about five years ago, he was in a bad place. Real bad. But things have gotten better. He doesn't date much, but whatever. I get it. He'll get into it when he gets into it. Last thing he needs is to get into a messy rebound."

"I understand," said Evelyn softly. If nothing else, it explained why Jay was quiet and soft spoken. As she found out, he was probably right to avoid the parties.

Stark Industries was well known for hosting some of the biggest and best parties. There were fireworks and dancing, music and abundantly flowing booze. It was opulent but not quite to the point of excess. But parties were far more fun if you knew someone there and could actually engage in the socializing. Evelyn did not. So she sat at the corner of the bar feeling completely invisible.

If her presence wasn't required as a part of her job, she probably wouldn't have showed up. Part of her was curious about what a big gala event was like. she wanted to people-watch and see what it was like among important people. She and Will chatted it up with a few people from various science departments and the reporters swarming about. After about two hours, pretty much everyone was far too hammered to be capable of very much.

"I usually don't drink," jabbered Will as he nursed his third or fourth glass of champagne, "It's a central nervous system depressant and I make a living off of my central nervous system. Without it, I would be screwed. But this is a special occasion so, you know."

"Well, I don't have that problem because I am still underage," said Evelyn.

"Please," smirked Will, "You never snuck into your parent's liquor cabinet?"

"Dad did a pretty good job of keeping things out of reach," said Evelyn, "The only time I ever… well, the extent of my alcohol comes from one night at boarding school. A group of us stole booze from one of the teachers."

She suddenly really missed that night. Even though Bobby and Kitty were snookered and behaving like idiots, she still had fond memories. The fact that they were doing something expressly forbidden only sweetened the deal. Now she was a grown-up and in less than two years, she would not be bound by her age. Drinking would become mundane, something to be done at parties out of obligation. When it came right down to it, that was a very sad thought. Being an adult sort of sucked.

She realized Will wasn't actually paying attention. He was already flighty and now that trait was compounded by his intoxication. Evelyn checked her phone. She had no messages from anyone. She pondered calling someone to kill a bit of time. Clint and Natasha was in Miami this week on some sort of mission. She counted on her fingers to figure out what time it was in England so she could call Kitty but determined it was three in the morning over there and probably not a good time to be calling.

She decided to linger for a half hour longer and then say goodnight to Will and the rest of the clean energy crew and make her way to the subway. She retrieved herself a few pieces of prosciutto-wrapped cantaloupe to munch on in the meantime.

As she sat at the bar waiting out the clock, someone sidled up to the bar right next to her. At first Evelyn was too tired and distracted to care much who it was. Eventually she turned over and looked. It was unmistakably Tony Stark ordering drinks.

"Hey," he said once he noticed her glance, "You're, uh, clean energy!"

"Yes, I'm on the team," said Evelyn a little breathlessly, feeling strange to be this close to Tony Stark… her boss. She hoped that maybe he forgot about what happened the last time they crossed paths. "But it's not really my show. Will is the project manager."

"What are you talking about? You're part of the team. This _is_ your show. I think this has real promise."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. With a little luck, this operation is going to go places."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"Do you want to talk energy and I'll get you a drink?"

"Um... no thanks," said Evelyn. She was embarrassed to admit that she was too young to be drinking, "I-I was just going to go. I need to catch a train."

"Come on, Cinderella, you can expand your curfew a few minutes without turning into a pumpkin," smiled Tony easily. That mischievous glimmer in his eyes clicked into overdrive.

"I would really rather not take a late train home and end up sitting next to some stinky homeless guy or something."

"You know, I have people who could drive you home," countered Tony, "Or drive you anywhere you can think of."

At that moment, Pepper Potts walked up and spun Tony around in his chair, "You _do no_ t walk off when I'm trying to get you to talk to a reporter about this project. It's good press."

"He was _boring_."

"I don't care! He works for the Times. It's _important._ "

Tony turned and shot Evelyn a sorry smile, "See you around, Cinderella."

He walked off, Pepper dragging him along by the sleeve of his dinner jacket. Tony winked over his shoulder. Meanwhile, Pepper was speaking in a low undertone, lost among the jubilant sounds of the party. Tony only occasionally said something back, probably something witty.

"That's a lawsuit waiting to happen," muttered Pepper, barely audible over the sound of the party.

The words were like a punch to the gut. There was no way Pepper could be referring to her. It wasn't really like that, not really. Tony was just interested in the energy project. He said as much. Things might be misconstrued, yes, but... surely Tony would straighten things up. They were speaking in hushed tones as they walked away. Swallowing, Evelyn looked around to try and find Will. She decided to say goodbye and wrap up her evening.

Will was a bit sloshed and throwing around words in conversation such as "internal gamma recovery" and "Cherenkov reaction" and "high electron energy flux." Evelyn snuck the champagne flute out of his hand and placed on the bar top so it was just out of sight, out of mind. She gave him a pat on the back and left to his own devices. He was a grown-up and could handle himself.

She was on her phone to send her father a quick message. It was a precaution, just so he knew where she was. If something happened on the way home, he would know where she was supposed to be and he could look for her. It was in the middle of the message that she was stopped by a man in a suit. He was on the tall side and very large. But he had a round face and a bit of chubbiness to his cheeks.

"Ma'am, my name is Happy Hogan. Mr. Stark said I am to take you wherever you need to go."

Evelyn sighed, "Tell Mr. Stark thank you... but I can handle myself."

"He said you might say that," replied Happy, "But I'm afraid he was rather insistent. He said something about keeping stinky homeless people away from you."

"That... wow... okay," muttered Evelyn, "Thank you, really, it is very nice of him but I have a subway pass. I can make it home okay."

"Miss, please accept the ride or I lose my job. I would leave you alone but... my job is on the line right now."

Evelyn sighed, wincing a bit as she did so. "Alright Happy, I don't want you to lose your job or anything."

Happy led her to a sleek black limousine, glimmering in the city lights like a chunk of obsidian. It was perfectly polished, even the bumpers were given the elbow-grease treatment and scrubbed to a high shine. She went to open the passenger side door.

"Mr. Stark insisted the back, Miss."

Evelyn's shoulders fell a bit, "Really?"

Happy shrugged a shoulder and opened the door to the backseat of the limo. Truth be told, Evelyn had never rode in a limo before. It could be fun. So she went against her better judgement and climbed in. Happy held open the door and made sure her dress was tucked in properly so it wouldn't get shut in the door.

There were far too many buttons in that limo than were needed. There was everything from butt warmers to mood lighting to a screen that slid up and down to separate the ample backseat from the front. A space for an ice bucket was built in between the two middle seats. It was all incredibly posh. There was no denying that this was the sort of place which would be a haven for Tony Stark. Evelyn, however, was too worried about leaving sticky fingerprints everywhere.

How often did he send a limo around to take interns home? Was this some kind of social protocol she didn't know about? Was it just something Tony did to be a nice guy or whatever? Not that she was really complaining because it was far superior to the dirty subway. All the same, it was peculiar.


	35. Pt 3 Ch 9'5: Hot Fun In The Summertime

Evelyn was pretty sure Clint picked the hottest day of the year to go on their planned trip to Coney Island. The city was unbearable the whole week beforehand. People stayed sequestered in their homes and businesses with the air conditioning turned onto the "glacial" setting. Those without air conditioning made refuge in whatever scrap of shade they could find and prayed for a breeze off the ocean to bring down the mercury.

"How come I'm the luckiest man in the world and I get to go to the beach with two of the loveliest ladies on the face of the earth?" smiled Clint. He had a cheap little disposable camera and snapped a photo of Evelyn and Natasha in front of his truck as they packed up their things for the day trip.

Natasha rolled her eyes at him. She wore a black bikini top with matching boy shorts that covered a lot of her bottom. She was still thin but at least she looked healthy. Her skin darkened a bit, so the ghostly white color in her cheeks was nearly gone. The purple shadows under her eyes and the hollows of her cheeks were decreased so her cheeks appeared a bit more plump and lively. It did a lot to hide some of the reminders of her past. She still had a pale, narrow scar on her belly that was pretty clear. Natasha never said where she got that particular scar and when Evelyn brought it up, Natasha shut her mouth and walked away without a word. The more prominent, mottled bullet wound on her hip diverted attention from the smaller scar. She wore a pretty red flowered sarong wrap around her hips which hid most of the spot. You could no longer see her ribs but her joints were a bit knobbly. It was possible that would never go away completely. There would always be a lingering memory of her previous life.

Evelyn was a bit more modest in a purple tankini with white hibiscus flowers on the top. She tried picking out a bikini but her bust had increased slightly in the past year and now she couldn't find a bikini top that would stay in place. So she picked a top which provided a bit more support. She wore a large college tee shirt and a pair of purple swim shorts. While they were enough to cover most of her bottom, they were still short enough to show off her legs. Her father would practically have a heart attack at the idea of her in a swimsuit but she was with friends and she could take care of herself. Still, when she was picking them out, Phil had a look on his face which was a mix of disapproval and panic.

They loaded up his truck with beach towels, a cooler full of lunch and snacks, and an umbrella to stick in the sand and provide a bit a of shade. Phil also insisted that they bring sunscreen. Up until that day, Evelyn didn't know it was possible to buy sunscreen in quart increments. Finally, they were ready to make the quick drive from Brooklyn down to Coney Island.

As expected, it was a beautiful day to be at the beach and they weren't the only people to think that. The crowd on the sand was impressive. From a distance, it looked like there was hardly a stretch of sand to put down a towel. As they drew closer and parked the car, they did find some space fairly near the water. Evelyn brought a picnic basket full of food from the local deli: fried chicken, potato salad, macaroni and cheese, and thick cut potato fries.

The twenty piece container of chicken was enough to feed the three of them, although most of it went toward Evelyn. The result was a pile of bones picked so clean that there was nothing left for the seagulls and yellow jackets.

Evelyn lay back against the warm sand, feeling it gather around her legs. She buried her feet in the sand, feeling the cool layer just under the sunkissed surface. Closing her eyes, she felt the cool sea breeze waft across her body and cut through the hot summer sunbeams. The crowd was noisy, a hundred voices laughing and chatting over each other. High above them, seagulls squawked and cried as they rode the warm updrafts toward the cerulean sky. Evelyn closed her eyes and let herself just get lost in the feeling. Her belly was full and a sense of contentment settled into her chest.

She was so lost in the moment that she didn't hear Clint talking to her. He knelt down by her ear and said, "Earth to Evey!"

Evelyn was jolted out of her relaxed state, surprised by the sudden noise. Clint laughed as she flailed and she tossed a handful of sand at him. He jumped back and it fell innocently against his legs.

"You scared me!" she snapped playfully, "What do you want?"

"I wanted to know if you wanted to go into the water," he smiled.

He pulled off his shirt and charged toward the ocean. Clint was a typical midwestern boy and as such, he had a bit of a farmer's tan. It wasn't extreme but there was enough of a differentiation as to be noticeable between the darker shade on his arms and the soft peachy tone of his belly. The discrepancy was only made plainer by the dark colored swimwear he wore. But it would be a lie to say he didn't look good. His job required him to be in peak physical form and he certainly did that. Fortunately, his youthful metabolism was able to keep up with his love of cheap Chinese food and greasy pizza.

The water was cold but because it was so hot outside, it was an almost welcome relief. The air was heavy with salt. The mineral scent of seaweed and the pungent aroma of fish lingered in their lungs. The tide pulled at their ankles, threatening to pull them under if they weren't careful. Evelyn was a decent swimmer. Her father insisted that she learn a least enough to keep her afloat. It led to many afternoons in the SHIELD training pool, trying not to swallow the heavy, chlorinated water. It was different being in the ocean. The water felt wild, dangerous, and untamed.

Eventually her skin started to feel tight and dry. The sand had scratched away the top layers of skin so the new flesh was slightly raw and tingling from the salt. Parts of her legs were mottled red and irritated. She left the water and walked back up to their beach towel, where Natasha was waiting and running a file over her nails.

Natasha's hair was wet and caked with salt. She straightened her hair most days but once it got wet, like today, it start to form beautiful, voluminous curls. Evelyn wasn't sure why she straightened her hair since she looked really pretty with curly hair. Maybe it was just a spy thing, a way of changing her appearance so she couldn't be recognized easily. But she wasn't an espionage expert so she didn't know.

Evelyn started playing with the sand, forming it into little piles and making little doodles with her finger. It was little spirals and zigzags. Natasha scooted next to her and started helping create these piles and add her own little touches. Clint had evidently seen what they were up to and came back with a few pieces of driftwood, interesting colored pebbles, and even managed to scare up part of a bay scallop. Evelyn couldn't remember the last time she made a sandcastle on the beach. It must have been at least eight years ago, another lifetime ago.

That being said, it wasn't a beautiful sandcastle. There was no craftsmanship. It was a pile of sand decorated with bits of the ocean. It would soon be washed away by the tide or kicked over by kids running around or any one of a number of pickup frisbee games. Still, in her mind she pictured a castle made up entirely of spires. Each was taller than the last until they formed a point that reached the pristine blue sky. The castle featured an ivory columned hall, bright as the sun and sparkling with the light of all the stars in the sky. The creation in front of her was a pretty poor facsimile of what she pictured in her mind's eye.

"It looks nice."

Evelyn smirked, "You are going to hell for lying, Clint."

"I'm serious. For what it is, it looks good. I want a picture of it." He pulled out the little disposable camera from her bag. "You two scoot in next to it so I can get a photo."

Evelyn sat on the left side while Natasha took right. They both smiled while Clint took the picture and then wound the film. He smiled.

"You two are freaking cute."

Natasha smiled. She could take a compliment or leave it but that didn't mean that she didn't enjoy them. Her skin was starting to become a bit pink on her cheeks and the tips of her ears. Evelyn handed her the bottle of sunscreen, which she took and began to apply the lotion to her face and neck. Clint cleared his throat and pointedly looked away.

"Hey, when you're done, let's go up to the boardwalk," requested Clint, brushing sand off his knees, "We can get ice cream and check out the fair."

"You can take the boy out of the carnival, but you can't take the carnival out of the boy," smiled Evelyn as she packed up their things to put in the car on their way back.

He was looking wistfully toward the lights and the rides. There was a shimmer of nostalgia in the blue of his eyes and the shadow of a smile on his face. He seemed a bit antsy, hurrying them along until they could start walking back up onto the shoreline and into the small town.

It was a cute place. The planks under their feet were well worn from years of winter storms but they were kept painted and maintained so they seemed stable enough. The little shops were painted cotton candy pink, buttercup yellow, and summer sky blue. It was like walking through Candyland with all the sugary colors and bright lights. Up ahead, there were rides: arching ferris wheels, old wooden roller coasters, and smaller carnival games decked to the rafters with flashing lights. Music wafted through on the ocean breeze, the tinkle of chimes and the tooting of an old pipe organ from one direction and snappy pop tunes coming out of the carnival shops to entice players into their shiny world of pretty colors and blinking lights.

Clint had a wistful smile on his face as he walked around, taking in the familiar sights and smells. There was salt on the air but also the sweet smell of caramel corn, spun sugar, hot dogs, and pure grease. There was also some kind of intangible aroma, a little bit greasy and a little bit stale. It was hard to tell what it was but it lingered.

Clint and his sixth sense for chocolate led them to a quaint little ice cream shop. It had a black and white tiled floor and clean white walls. Little red plastic tables dotted the outdoor seating area. It was all very retro, like something from a picture postcard in the fifties or in one of the old movies her father liked to watch.

Evelyn got chocolate truffle ice cream. It was a rich, dark, creamy ice cream with chunks of fluffy truffle bits studded through it. She smiled as she licked the cone. Clint had rocky road. It was vanilla studded with bits of chocolate, cookie, and candy. Natasha picked out something with berries and chocolate. The boiling hot sun was threatening to melt their cones if they didn't eat quickly. Evelyn still ended up with chocolate ice cream running down her fingers and threatening to flow down her arm. Clint was long done with his ice cream, Evelyn doubted he even tasted it based on how fast he snarfed it down.

"Hey, Tasha," Clint pointed over at the carnival, "Want me to win you a bear?"

"Don't make a fool of yourself," she warned, chewing on the sugar cone.

"Please, I'm only the best marksman in the business," he smiled.

"I know. You're a great marksman but a lousy spy. People will know in a second that you figured out their game."

"You think I'm a lousy spy?" he was starting to grin. He was taking it as a challenge.

"I don't _think_ you are. It's a quantifiable fact. You _are_ a lousy spy."

"We'll see about that," he had a full grin as he slapped down five bucks on the counter for three darts.

He took two haphazard throws with the darts which were widely off base. He could do better, Evelyn had seen him do better many, many times. This was a game to him, pretending to be the idiot. His espionage training was surviving him well. Evelyn wondered why he was playing around but then she watched him twirl the final dart between his fingers. His eyes were not on the target, they weren't even on the dart in his hands. His eyes landed directly on Natasha.

In an instant the playful scene changed and Clint focused on the target. Clint's eyes narrowed slightly as he sized up the scene. He was feeling the air for the movement of the wind and his eyes bored into the center dot of the target. This first two were deliberate misses to make it look like he was another starry-eyed moron trying to get a plush toy for his girlfriend and not someone who practically did this for a living. The dart shot from his finger as he brought his arm around to follow through. The pointed end cut through the air so quickly that it was heard more than it was seen. It stuck in the corkboard, buried almost an inch deep, in the dead center of the red target. He couldn't help himself, a smirk shot across his lips.

"Which one do you want, Natasha?"

His blue eyes were the color of the summer sky and overflowing with warmth as he watched her survey the prizes. She looked up at the assorted toys in the net basket, eventually picking up a cute little polar bear with adorable little ears and a little pink heart shaped nose. Clint chuckled.

"You had to pick the polar bear."

"Polar bears are cute."

"Not when they're chasing you."

"Well then maybe you shouldn't provoke them."

Clint opened his mouth to say something but then closed his mouth again. Whatever he was going to say was probably seven layers of classified.

"Do you want one?" he asked Evelyn instead, "It will take, like, two seconds."

"I think I'm fine," she smiled. It didn't matter. Clint wasn't paying attention to her.

It was obvious to Evelyn that Clint wanted to hug Natasha or hold her somehow. His eyes were focused on her ruby red lips, watching how they framed words and the subtle motion of her face as breath passed in and out of her mouth. He studied her, slowly becoming a student of her mannerisms, a scholar of her expressions, and an expert of her being. Watching them made Evelyn feel like a voyeur, invading a private moment.

She excused herself to the restroom. They needed a moment. She needed a moment. She made her way to an open bathroom stall in one of the nearby buildings. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her skin was a bit pink from the sun. She knew it would fade and tan a little bit but the tan never lingered. Her skin would eventually lighten back to the same pale peachy color as before.

The sun and the salt of the sea were making her feel a little bit tired. It was the deep tired which settled inside her bones and lived in her marrow. It was a tiredness which could only be relieved through the deepest sleep. She splashed water on her face to bring her back to reality. The water was as cold as the ocean and a bit of a shock to the system, enough to pull her back to the moment so she didn't look tired when she rejoined her friends.

"Where'd you get off to?" asked Clint as she found them sitting on the edge of the parking lot, "Were you having, bathroom problems or something? I knew that potato salad was a bad idea!"

"No, nothing like that," Evelyn insisted.

"So are you okay? No nasty bathroom business or whatever?"

"That's gross, Clint."

"Just looking out for you," he smiled, "C'mon. Your dad wants you home before dark. I am not going to get on his shit list."

As the sun began to sink below the horizon, they packed up the car and pulled out of the crowded parking lot. The sky was a beautiful lavender color with hot pink blooming just over the horizon. The sun was a ball of brilliant orange, giving off a few final rays as it dipped under the land to the west. The ocean appeared a pretty periwinkle with pale foamy crests.

"Y'know," said Clint, breaking the silence, "I've been thinking."

"Uh-oh," laughed Natasha, cradling the bear close to her chest, "That's dangerous."

"Nah, seriously," he said, trying to keep the tone somewhat serious, "I'm glad I have you two. Being back at, you know, at the carnival made me think of being back at the circus. And, I am glad that I'm not still there. I'm happy to be here. I'm happy to live my life like this, with you two."

The car fell silent as the girls thought this over. Clint continued to talk. "I mean, if not for you guys, I would be just performing the same shows day in and day out and that's if I even got stage time. And you don't really get friends or anything because you move around all the time and things change so often. And during the off season, everyone is in freakin' Florida with the mosquitoes and the alligators and the hurricanes and… blech. So, yeah, I'm happy to be here. I have a real roof over my head and I have a place to spend Christmas and stuff like that. And, you know, thanks. I would rather be here right now than anywhere else in the entire world."


	36. Pt 3 Ch 10: Dolce

The office was empty when Evelyn walked in. Will was nowhere to be seen and the offices were quiet. Those two observations were, in fact, related. The only sound was the omnipresent hum of the arc reactor churning away. She seemed to vaguely recall that Will and Jay had space in the R&D department but she had no idea where that was and didn't think it would be effective to go wandering aimlessly around the building like a little lost sheep.

She walked over to their desk space to try to see if there was a note left for her or anything like that. It was not her intention to be nosy but she ended up poking around the space a bit more than she intended. Jay's desk was fairly neat save for a few metal parts and tools that he left sitting out. There was a small jar of oblong shaped pills, she assumed for his hand. Most interestingly, there was a picture frame.

It was small, only a three by five polished black frame. The picture inside was of an infant boy in a navy blue onesie with a red and yellow truck embroidered on the front. He had a tuft of dark hair and a wide baby smile, devoid of teeth. Upon closer inspection, the picture inside had been torn so whoever was holding the baby was out of frame. The person was wearing a satiny white blouse with puffy sleeves and odd looking frills. It was very eighties. When Evelyn looked closer, she could only just make out the tips of sparrow-colored hair along the edge of the tear. This was probably his ex-wife holding their child. She set the frame down carefully, hoping that she hadn't disturbed anything.

No sooner did she put everything back where it belonged that she heard the seal on the door pop. She hurried back into the center of the room to look like she was just minding her own business and not, in any way, being invasive.

Jay walked in with purple bags under his unfocused eyes. He looked like it had been days since he slept. The silver in his hair was more prominent than she remembered. It took him a moment to register that she was there.

"Is it today already?"

Evelyn nodded but Jay didn't seem to notice because he was in the middle of a gigantic yawn which squeezed his eyes shut and forced tears out the corners. Evelyn held in her own impulse to yawn in response.

Finally he shook his head and spoke, "Will is sick today. Got himself a stomach bug so he's going to be worshipping the porcelain goddess," Evelyn had never heard that terminology before and found it amusing. Jay almost smiled at her, letting her laugh, and continued. "If you have your paperwork and stuff done, you can go home early. It's Fourth of July weekend anyway, so go enjoy the fireworks."

She didn't need to be told twice. Anita was coming into town.

Her flight landed at JFK airport shortly after noon. Since she was only going to be in town for a weekend concert, she packed light. The heaviest thing in her luggage was the enormous cello case. It was made of wood covered in stiff black leather. It was obviously quite old, worn thin in spots and a little torn on the edges. Duct tape held the worst patches together. But it was obviously loved, as evidenced by stickers from her favorite locations and adorning the sides and top. There was a small 'mutant awareness' ribbon dangling near the handle.

"It's good to see you, sweetheart," smiled Anita, taking Evelyn in a hug.

"Good to see you too," she replied, bending over to return her hug.

"How are things?" asked Anita as they walked to the parking lot. Phil had borrowed Clint's truck because Lola didn't have enough trunk space for a cello and her luggage.

"I guess alright," said Evelyn, "Been busy with an internship at Stark Industries. Working on the arc reactor."

"I saw an article about that in National Geographic," said Anita, "It's pretty cool that you get to work on it."

"Not so much 'work on it' as 'clean up after it' and 'file paperwork about it.' But I get paid, so that's a plus."

Phil and Anita shared a confused look as they got into the car but it was lost on Evelyn. She crawled into the backseat which was somewhat cramped, almost put into the car as an afterthought. There was no meaningful legroom so they made the drive back into town with her knees nearly pulled up to her chin. When she tried to squeeze herself some extra legroom, all she actually succeeded in doing was putting a few new dents in the back of Clint's car. Sheepishly, she stopped struggling and rested her hands meekly against her lap.

"So, this concert," said Phil, "what is it exactly?"

"Oh, it's something that the New York Philharmonic does every year. They pick musicians from symphonic orchestras in all fifty states and we all perform a selection of patriotic music for Fourth of July. It's just a fun thing and they pay for our air fare out here. I'm also not about to say 'no' to a chance to perform at Carnegie Hall."

"I wouldn't either," said Phil, wincing as the car shuddered as he shifted gears. Clint's car was not really the best. The transmission was chugging, the gear shift stuck, and the engine sounded like it was made up of hamsters running on little wheels. Every single part of it was in need of a tune-up. But it was the best that could be done with a young agent's salary. Stop-and-go holiday traffic was also not doing them any favors. But eventually they crawled their way to their destination and started unloading the things Anita needed for the concert.

"Help her," whispered Phil, giving Evelyn a slight push to the back.

The cello and case was weightless to Evelyn. She could easily hold it with one hand even though, out of respect for Anita, she kept two hands on it. Except when she was pushing the dents back in on the back of the cab. She didn't want to send the car back to her friend with extra dents.

"Thank you, sweetie," smiled Anita as she loaded the case onto a hand truck,"We're going to have a dress rehearsal. Where should I meet you after?"

"We'll come by and pick you up for dinner," said Phil, "What time will you be ready?"

"This will probably only take an hour or two."

It worked out nicely because he and Evelyn could go and get changed for the concert. Evelyn changed into a pretty sapphire blue dress. Phil smiled. His little girl was a bit of a tomboy. She wore dresses and skirts but preferred pants if at all possible. This had to be a special occasion if she was wearing a dress. Although this dress in particular was getting a little bit frayed and threadbare along the edges. This and a few other pieces probably needed to go into the Salvation Army bin. Phil made a mental note to ask Maria or Bobbi to take her shopping and refresh her wardrobe.

Or perhaps he would ask Anita to assist him in taking his daughter shopping because she looked a special variety of beautiful when they met back up at the concert hall. She wore a pretty long, black dress with a slight overlay of lace. It was simple but pretty, accented with a teal jacket and neat little ballet flats.

"I have something for you," said Phil and he pulled out a small rectangular box from his inner jacket pocket, by his heart.

Inside the box was a pretty necklace made of luminescent pearls interspaced with tiny white crystals. It was not a long strand of pearls but it rested lovingly on her collarbones. Her smile was reflected in the dressing room mirror and he knew he was doing something right.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, "You didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to give you something nice," he said with a smile.

"It's very generous of you. Thank you," she smiled. She was beautiful and Phil loathed having to take his hands away once the clasp was done up on her neck. Fortunately, she pulled him into a hug. She was cool to the touch but in a way which was refreshing in the hot summer, like jumping into a swimming pool. He hated to let go.

"So, anywhere you want to go for food?" he asked.

"I'm not picky," Anita replied with a shrug, "But we sort of need to eat fast. I gotta get back to the green room within an hour."

That sentence ended up with them deciding to head down the street to Evelyn's favorite noodle place here in New York. She loved the chewy udon bowl and the spicy ramen. There was a long bar where you could sit and watch as the chefs spin the noodles by hand. Their fingers wove in and out of the dough with expert ease, pulling them back and forth until they were perfect. The dough sizzled as it hit the pan and a plethora of wonderful aromas and tastes were added.

"Are you sure you want to eat here?" asked Phil, "I'm sure you get Asian food all the time."

Anita shrugged, "Somewhat. Grandma would make traditional food. But my mother is American so we ate hamburgers and macaroni and cheese and meatloaf like any other family."

"Where is your family from?" asked Evelyn. She finally realized that she didn't really know all that much about Anita's family other than her and her brother.

"My father's family was North Korean," she explained, "They escaped just before the country completely shut down and managed to sneak all the way to Canada. They worked hard, doing what jobs they could. Dad eventually went to the police academy and joined the RCMP and met my mom, who was an American going to school in Calgary. They married and moved to the states. They had me, had Martin, and the rest is history."

"Do you still have family in North Korea?"

"Some," said Anita, her voice somber and a little quiet, "Some aunties and uncles didn't leave when they could and they're still there. We think. We haven't had any contract with that part of the family since... the fifties, I think. So, there is a whole branch of the family tree that I have never met."

"Have you ever been to Korea?" asked Evelyn, leaning her chin against her hand as she listened.

"Once. I was ten and we went to Seoul. I have a lot of fond memories of that. But I haven't been back since. I'd love to visit again, if possible."

"Why haven't you?" asked Phil curiously.

Anita shrugged, "Time. Money. Lots of things."

The conversation was cut short when their order came up. Evelyn had caramelized udon noodles. They were chewy and slightly sweet, mixed with broccoli, green onions, carrots, and cabbage. Anita ordered the spicy ramen in a hot, red broth with a cracked egg on top. Phil had a chicken yakisoba with sweet snap peas, broccoli, and shredded cabbage. Anita used chopsticks with practiced ease.

There was something very cute about her mouth, Phil decided. She spent some time on her makeup, forming her lips into a cute little bow. Her efforts did not go unnoticed. In fact, he spent a lot of time looking at her lips. He turned back to his yakisoba before he spoke his mind and possibly said something silly.

Time seemed to pass far too quickly and they were soon lining up to enter the theater. Anita bid them goodbye and hurried back to the green room to warm up.

Carnage Hall was a gorgeous performance space. History was embedded in the walls. Memories of previous performances lingered in the halls and echoed around the ceilings. This was the home of the greats. All the most talented artists and dancers left their mark on this stage. The ghosts of performances past lingered in the wings and whispered down the halls.

Their seats were decent. It was a little far away but their line of sight to the stage was clear. They were getting them for free so they couldn't be too picky. Although Phil was starting to understand the usefulness of opera glasses. Evelyn seemed to take the spare time to read the program they had been given.

"A celebration of Aaron Copland featuring orchestra members from all fifty states and audio-visual by students from New York University," read Evelyn, "Wow, I didn't realize that Anita was an elite musician or whatever you call that."

"I didn't know either," admitted Phil as the house lights dimmed and the conductor took the stand, "I only knew she was second seat in the Portland Symphony."

"Maybe soon to be first seat?" Asked Evelyn

Phil shrugged. He didn't know how symphony orchestras worked. Instead, he focused on the music at hand. The first performance was 'Fanfare for the Common Man." Anita was not a part of the group performing. It was made up almost entirely of brass instruments and percussion. Evelyn noticed her father scanning the faces of the performers with a little bit of impatience. The piece started slowly, quietly. The instruments put on their softest voices and gradually crescendoed into a strong, triumphant finale. The audio-visual element featured shots of the sun rising over the recognizable landmarks of national parks and monuments. A red-tinted dawn gave way to beautiful blue skies, shining white buildings, and purple-tinted mountain peaks.

Anita took the stage for the second piece, along with a few violins and violas. Evelyn examined the other instruments too and there were a few that she didn't recognize. One of them looked like a clarinet formed into the shape of a saxophone. Another looked bent, twisted, and looped around into a hulking musical monstrosity. Another looked like an oboe had been stretched and molded into something slinky and willowy. She didn't know what any of these were called. She would have to ask Anita about it later.

This piece was called 'Lincoln Portrait' and featured a speaker who was someone that Evelyn though she probably should have known based on the applause but she really had no idea who it was. He read off excerpts from Abraham Lincoln's speeches and debates with musical accompaniment. She recognized some of the themes but couldn't tell you their names.

The next song was Copland's "Piano Variations" and featured Leilani Lee, principal pianist of the Honolulu Symphony Orchestra, as the soloist. She had the most beautiful name that Evelyn had ever heard in her life. Anyone named "Leilani Lee" was the sort of person who seemed almost destined to be a star. The sounds she was able to coax from the instrument were as magical as her name. But one question wriggled in the back of Evelyn's mind.

"How do you get a piano from Hawaii to here?"

"Don't know," whispered Phil back, "Magic dolphins?"

Evelyn and he shared an amused look.

The concert continued with excerpts from 'El Salón México,' 'Appalachian Spring' and 'Rodeo.' It ended on 'American Songs' and a chorus appeared out of the wings to sing 'Simple Gifts' while the symphony swelled and bloomed around the words of the song. It felt like spring graced their presence and they were lost in the softness of the notes.

Anita gave them passes to get in the back door of the stage after the concert. It was a unique experience since neither of them had been backstage and seen the inner workings of a concert. It was a lot less glamorous than either of them expected. Backstage was largely plain wooden floors and simple walls. Ropes controlled the curtains to be raised or lowered. Stagehands in black T-shirts and blue jeans milled around, moving boxes around and pushing the larger instruments back into waiting U-Haul trucks.

Music wafted through the air was they walked along to try to find Anita. A Latin trumpet warbled and soared to a shrill, piercing pitch. A jazz trombone snorted and farted all over the lower register. Some other sort of woodwind coiled and meandered around the corners of the room. Percussion clicked and snapped to interrupt the interlocking melodies. It took the pair of them a second to pick out the particular instrument they were listening for, but the resonant voice of the cello guided them to Anita.

The body of the cello was reddish-brown wood with strands of golden yellow and pitch black weaving in and out of the grain. As it turned in the light, the multitudes of undertone and overtones came to the foreground and introduced themselves one by one. It was a subtle nuance which was lost when you saw the instrument from a distance. The cello settled between Anita's legs while the neck rested upon her shoulder, like an embrace. The brazilwood bow was cradled between her fingers, halfway between a pinch and a caress.

Anita was bent over her instrument. Fingers flew up and down the neck, quick enough to put some rock guitarist to shame. Her bow sawed back and forth, shredding the horsehair so it fluttered like a pendant in a hurricane. The strings protested at the aggressive handling so they whined and groaned as Anita pulled the notes from the instrument. It was strange that the cello could be sweet and gentle on the one hand and then suddenly transform into a snarling beast. A good deal of that was due to Anita's mastery of the instrument and the craftsmanship behind the actual cello.

Phil and Evelyn applauded and Anita smiled over at them. She waved them over and set the cello in its case so she could hug them.

"Do you two want a quick private concert?" she suggested.

Evelyn nodded happily. She had never seen a cello in person and only ever heard it in recordings and when the school orchestra did their performances.

Music swelled from the strings, a deep voice but soft and gentle. It sounded like a father singing a lullaby to his baby. Intensely familiar, but not attached to a particular memory. Notes rose and fell, sailing high and then swooping downward, only to loop back up once again. The cello growled and cried, trilled and warbled. A thousand expressions and words materialized from the music, coaxed skillfully from the instrument by the hands of an artist. When silence finally fell, Evelyn paused for a moment before applauding, letting the sounds ring in her head for a moment before expressing her appreciation for the music.

"That was beautiful," whispered Phil in awe. _You're beautiful._ That's what he wanted to say.

"Thank you," she said, resting the bow across her lap, "That was the Prelude to Bach's Cello Suite. It's kind of the song cello players use to say 'hello' to each other."

She placed the shiny, beautiful instrument in a nest of blue crushed velvet and closed the lid. Her fingers accidentally struck the lowest string so it hummed before the lid cut it off. Evelyn picked up the case for her and Anita gathered up the loose sheets of music.

"Would you like to come over for dessert?" Asked Phil, ignoring how his heart beat faster at the idea of spending more time with her.

"I made chocolate cake," said Evelyn proudly, ignoring the fact that the cake came from a box of cake mix. She was still very excited that she made a proper cake with chocolate frosting and didn't set off the fire alarm in the process. Part of her wanted to use the tubes of gel frosting to make a Captain America shield on the top but she questioned her own artistic talent so she opted instead to smother it in red, white, and blue nonpareils.

Of course Anita accepted and they went to the parking lot to find Lola. It didn't take long. Lola was a very distinctive car and Anita's eyes shot right to it.

"Wow," she smiled, running a hand over Lola's sleek lines, "You have a beautiful car!"

Her touch was delicate and loving, the touch of someone who had a level of appreciation for what she held. There was also something really attractive about a beautiful woman standing next to a beautiful car which Phil couldn't ignore.

"You know, you must be special, because Dad doesn't share Lola with just anyone."

Phil shot his daughter a look but Anita was smiling. A faint rosy blush tickled the apples of her cheeks. When she sat in the car, she wanted to ask about all the specs and spoke at length about her vintage Porsche. The pair were comfortable being unrepentant car nerds together. The entire ride home, Anita just had question after question about the specs on Lola and the little gadgets he had implemented. It wasn't until they got home that Evelyn finally had a chance to get a word in edgewise and grill Anita with her questions about music.

"The question has been burning me up. How _do_ you bring in a grand piano from Hawaii?" she asked as she cut the cake.

"Some of the people who had to travel a long way with unwieldy instruments borrowed ones from their counterparts here in New York. I know the marimbas and tympani were borrowed, as well as the piano."

"Marimbas?"

"The percussion instruments," explained Anita, "like xylophones but bigger."

Anita turned out to be incredibly knowledgeable of instruments and was able to explain the instruments that Evelyn didn't recognize as a bass clarinet, a contrabassoon, and an English horn, none of which she had ever heard of before. If Anita didn't say the names so confidently, Evelyn would swear up and down that she was making them up.

The cake turned out to be pretty good, the limitations of boxed cake mix notwithstanding. Evelyn used chocolate pudding mix in it so the inside was soft, moist, and even a little gooey. The frosting was the oversweet sort which came from a can but it was nice enough, and very festive with the sprinkles.

It seemed like it became late way too early and he had to take Anita back to her hotel. Phil put it off as much as he could. They walked along the sidewalk among the crowds of excited holidaymakers. A few people were letting off fireworks early but most of the night was lit only by the pale light of the cool crescent moon and the flickering neon lights. Anita absorbed New York like a sponge, her eyes flicking from building to building to drink in the features. By the time they reached the hotel, she was aglow.

"I had a lovely evening, Phil. Thank you."

He cradled her hand in his, smiling broadly. They stood under the streetlamp in front of her hotel. Anita was bathed in the golden glow of the light. She was painted with the pearlescent glow of moonlight and watercolor features. The silver strands in her hair seemed to shimmer and glow with starlight. Her eyes were full of the glow of moonbeams and Phil found himself drawn into them. Their hands were entwined. Even though it was time for them to part, he gravitated toward her like the tide. There was no way to stop the pull she had on him. He would have more luck trying to hold back the ocean.

As with all beautiful moments, it was over far too soon. It was a firework in the inky black sky, pretty while it lasted but gone in an instant. Anita smiled and loosened her grip on his hand. They separated and she turned to go into the hotel. He missed his chance.

But maybe not.

"Anita," he called, stepping forward.

"Yes," she turned, a little bit breathless.

He paused. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted it so badly.

"Uh, do you want to meet up again, tomorrow, before you leave?"

She smiled, "Of course. I would love to."

"I know a, uh, a diner that the agents like to go to. They say it is good pie."

What had him nervous as a kid on exam day? Anita was a beautiful woman, and obviously interested. She wouldn't have accepted another meeting if she wasn't, would she? The ride home seemed to take longer than ever and it gave him an abundance of time to mull over the encounter and try to figure out exactly what he should do.

If only it was that easy.

By the time he got home, Evelyn had changed from the concert dress into a pair of sweatpants and a gray tank top. She made a nest among the sofa pillows and a throw blanket. The History Channel was airing a miniseries about Captain America and World War Two which she had been excited to watch.

"Oh," said Evelyn as he walked in, "I wasn't expecting you back so soon!"

Phil gave his daughter a look and contemplated saying something but then decided not to. She wasn't being disrespectful, just honest. Frankly, he was surprised he was back so quickly as well.

"Yeah, uh, Anita wanted to get a good night's rest tonight because we are probably going to be up late tomorrow with fireworks and stuff."

"Uh-huh."

His eyes narrowed as his frown deepened. Now she was being sassy. Or he would have thought so if she didn't seem engrossed by the dramatic reenactment on the screen of Captain America sneaking into the Hydra base to rescue the captured 107th Regiment. It was a good documentary, but not quite as good as the HBO "Howling Commandos" series which was produced by Steven Spielberg. Evelyn gave her father the boxed set for his birthday a few years back. The actor who played Cap was stern and noble, the picture of righteousness and honor. The actor who played Bucky was the kind of tragically dreamy sort who wouldn't be out of place as the love interest in some Nicholas Sparks film. The boxed set had an extra six hours of documentary footage and a collection of the old black-and-white USO films. Evelyn admitted to him once that the Captain America in those film reels was far more handsome than the modern actor.

But this series was not bad and a good way to spend the evening before Fourth of July. Phil sat on the couch next to her as they watched the scene play out. Evelyn was staring at the screen, engrossed by the action. They sat like that until the next commercial break.

"You doing anything tomorrow?"

"Clint wants me to go with him and Natasha to a barbeque that one of the agents are hosting but Rumlow will be there so I don't think I want to go."

"Well, that's not fair. It's been a while. He could have grown up a bit since last you saw him."

"Sure. Or he could be worse than ever."

Phil almost rolled his eyes. "He's not going to be the only one there. You don't have to spend any time with him."

"I know. But I still don't want to hang out in his proximity. He makes me feel physically ill."

"Well, you should still go, if for no reason than to spend time with Clint and Natasha."

"Why? Do you want some alone time with Anita?"

"Now hold on a minute, young lady," he said, reaching over to snatch the remote from her hands and put the TV on mute. Evelyn glared up at him.

" _What?_ "

"That's not appropriate. Just because you are an adult and not living under my roof most of the year doesn't give you the right to pull that crap."

"What crap?"

"That's the third time you've implied that Anita and I are having sex. We're not. And it isn't polite to assume. She's a nice lady."

"I just said 'alone time.' You're only one who thinks I meant sex."

Phil stared at his daughter, "I'm not that naive, Evey. I know what you meant."

"Even if that's true, would it be such a bad thing? I'd be thrilled if you and her were serious."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I know you like her. And, honestly, she's a pretty amazing person. If you were going to be serious with someone, it would be cool if it was someone like her."

Phil blinked at his daughter for a second before jumping to the obvious conclusion. "Do you want a mom? Is that what this is about?"

"Maybe," said Evelyn, folding her hands together and directing her gaze down at them. "I mean, it's never been a big deal. I've been happy growing up with you. But, I just… I still wonder, you know, where I came from. I wonder who my parents are. I still think about it. I'm still _curious._ But I made peace with the fact long ago that I might never know for sure. And that's fine. I'm _okay_ with it. I'm _happy_ with my life, generally."

"But," said Phil gently, turning to look at her in the eyes, "You didn't answer my question. Do you want a mom?"

Evelyn was silent for a long minute, staring at the carpet and avoiding his gaze. Phil put his arm around her and she pressed herself into the front of his shirt.

"I don't want you to hate me," she admitted.

"I don't hate you at all. Why would I do that?"

She took a deep breath before speaking. "I don't want you to think that I don't appreciate you or I don't love you because I really, really do. You're my papa. I love you with all my heart! But… but…"

He paused. Her eyes were filled with tears that she was trying hard not to show him. But Phil clearly saw the dewdrops on her eyelashes. She suddenly started crying and she collapsed into his arms.

Phil didn't know what to say to comfort her. It was hard to put his own feelings in order, much less figure out her emotions. Perhaps he wasn't the best parent but he didn't know what else he could have done for her.

"I don't know," she whined, grabbing at the front of his shirt, "I don't know why I'm upset. I don't know what I want."

"Evey, honey," he patted her on the back softly, "I'm not mad. I'm not mad at you at all. I'm sorry for… I'm sorry I brought it up."

Evelyn started crying harder. Phil combed his hands through her hair, trying to find a way to calm her. She felt very warm against his chest and part of him was deathly afraid she was leaking too much energy. It could cause another table lamp to melt.

"I knew that you were going to wonder about your real mom and dad," he said soothingly, "I'm just surprised it took this long for you to get upset about it."

"I've always wondered, Papa."

Phil held her tightly until her sobs subsided. "I've looked, sweetie, believe me. I've been looking."

"I know."

"Is there something else I can do? Something to help? Maybe something to make things easier for you?"

"I dunno."

Phil untangled himself long enough to reach across the coffee table for the box of tissues. She gladly took a handful to blow her nose and dab at her leaking eyes.

"I'm here to help you however you need," assured Phil.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry," she muttered, wiping her tears away, "I'm PMS-ing a bit."

"Don't worry," smiled Phil, "Do you need ice cream or something?"

"I'm fine," she sighed, "We already had cake."

"I know you. And I know there are some issues which cannot be solved by cake. There are some issues which require ice-cream intervention."

But Phil went to the kitchen to pull out the container of rocky road ice cream anyway. It wasn't too often that she got into a funk due to what he politely referred to as _aunt flo's visit_ , but he always kept a quart container on hand just in case. She sat in silence, sniffling a bit as he scooped her an extra-large portion. She just stared at it for a second, watching as the cookie chunks sank into a puddle of melting cream.

"What's up?"

Sniffle.

"I know," he said with a smile, "We need something to break the ice."

"Wow, Dad!" She rolled her eyes as he put a spoon into the bowl. She finally started eating and it seemed like her mood levelled out a bit.

"Look, Evelyn," he said, serious now, "I understand if… you feel like you've missed out on something by not having a mother around. I know I've done my best to help but there are some things that I just don't understand because I'm male and I don't understand some female things. _Auntie flo_ , for instance."

"Well, that's what I have Maria for. And Bobbi. And Sharon."

"I know, but I understand it's not the same as having a mom."

Evelyn paused, "You know, I really wouldn't mind if Anita was my mom."

"Okay, why is that?" asked Phil leaning over the counter.

"Well, she's super easy to talk to," explained Evelyn between bites of ice cream, "And she gives good advice and stuff. I dunno, if she lived closer, I think I'd want to spend more time with her."

 _Me too_ , thought Phil. But aloud he cleared his throat and said, "I could see why you would like that."

"I also think she's real good for you."

"For me?" said Phil, with pretend innocence. We're his efforts truly that transparent.

"Papa, I've never seen you with a woman other than the lady agents and Anita. And even then it's entirely professional," she explained, "I… worry that you aren't happy. When I'm at college, I'm concerned that you're alone."

"I keep busy."

She sighed and went back to her ice cream, "I know."

They sat there in silence for a moment, eating ice cream and mulling over what the other person was trying to say. Phil didn't want to admit it, but some part of him missed the days when he could take a girl dancing and didn't have to worry about being home to cook dinner or tuck his daughter in at night or help her with her homework as best he could.

He wasn't a young man anymore and staying out all night was not something he could do anymore. He called it "immature" or "selfish" to want those thing. It provided a comfortable buffer distance. But now, a lot of the responsibility was off his shoulders. Evelyn was an adult. He could start to approach the idea of going out with a lady... slowly, tentatively. Part of him felt so selfish for entertaining the idea. No matter how hard he tried to scrub it away, that label was not fading easily.

"Papa," she said softly, "I know Anita makes you happy. And… I want to see you happy."

"Ignoring yourself?"

"Not really. I like her too. You have my approval, for what that's worth."

"It's worth a lot," Phil interjected.

"Well, then, go for it. What are you waiting for?"

The conversation lingered in his head for some time afterward. The next day, Evelyn took his advice and went to the barbeque although she did so with a bit of a scowl and a promise that if Rumlow so much as _looked_ at her funny, she couldn't promise that she wouldn't punch him in the teeth. Phil requested that she just left if he annoyed her rather than resorting to violence. No promises were made either way. "Be nice" were his parting words to her as she got into Clint's truck and drove off. He hurried to meet Anita.

"So, I was promised pie," she said with a smile as she clambered into the front seat.

The diner in question, the Lamplighter, was just a little bit off the beaten path. It was an old retro throwback joint with checkerboard floors and red vinyl booths. An old jukebox in the corner belted out Elvis, Nat King Cole, and the Everly Brothers. The waitresses wore pale blue dresses and red shoes. Pies and cakes sat under cloche glasses like they were the crown jewels. The analogy wasn't too much of a stretch, if his co-workers were to be believed.

He and Anita took a booth under the neon, looking at the passersby on the street. Brooklyn was busy with tourists and locals alike as they hurried to their Fourth of July festivities. The sun had not yet set but the local kids had already lit sparklers and were sitting on their front stoops, giggling at the shower of sparks. Some mischievous tweens were tossing smoke bombs onto the sidewalk and running through the colorful smoke.

"My name's Monica, I'll be your server today," introduced the waitress, pulling them from their people-watching.

"I'd like a slice of your apple pie and a cup of coffee," said Phil.

"How do you take your coffee?" Asked the waitress.

"Black as a moonless night," said Phil with a smile. Anita shook her head.

"Hot tea for me, please."

"We have green, black, and peppermint."

"Black sounds nice, thank you," said Anita, "And a slice of cherry pie."

"Alrighty," said Monica as she picked up the menus, "And would either of you like to have ice cream with your pie? It's only a dollar more."

Phil said yes but Anita declined. Monica was quick on her toes and it took almost no time for their pies and drinks to be on the table in no time at all. They were served on pretty pale blue plates which matched the walls.

"Are you liking New York?"

"Yes, all things considered," said Anita, "I like to travel and see other places."

"Me too."

"It's a bit strange for me, actually. If you asked me thirty years ago, I would have told you that I wasn't ever going to leave Seattle," admitted Anita as she bobbed the tea bag in and out of the steaming water, "I fell in love with the Pacific Ocean, the rain, the way the moss hugged the trees, and the way the sun always appeared pure white, like a pearl, through the morning clouds. It's like being on another planet sometimes. There's nowhere in the world quite like it. Of course, then I moved to Portland and I fell in love with that city as well. So, I suppose I could find something to love about nearly any city."

"I guess I sort of know the feeling. Growing up, I loved St. Louis. Although, anymore, I have trouble going back in the summer because the weather is nightmarish. It will be a hundred degrees outside with humidity at nearly a hundred percent. You will sweat your tail off."

"How does anyone even live there?"

"I don't know how _I_ lived there!"

They paused the conversation for a moment to indulge in their respective pies. Phil always had a soft spot for apple. His grandmother made one heck of an apple pie and she always ate it with a slice of cheddar cheese. It was a bit bizarre, he never quite got into it personally. But it was a fond memory of summers gone by. To him, apple pie was made to be served with a nice scoop of ice cream.

"You can't get more All-American than cherry pie," said Anita, interrupting his thoughts.

"Apple," noted Phil, gesturing to his own plate, "I think the saying goes 'as American as apple pie.'"

"But George Washington and the cherry tree," rebuffed Anita.

Phil tilted his head in acquiescence, "Maybe pie in general is just sort of an American thing."

"Well, the British might have a thing or two to say on the subject of mincemeat."

"Okay, sure, but when's the last time you had mincemeat?"

"Touche," admitted Anita as she sipped her tea.

Time slipped by quickly and easily, almost too much so. Phil grabbed the check before Anita had a chance to intercept. She smirked and playfully tried to snatch at it out of his hands.

"Phil!"

"You are my guest," he said, tucking his card in the pocket and holding it out of her reach, "I couldn't call myself very gentlemanly if I don't take care of this."

Anita gave him a look but smiled. "Fine. But next time you come out to Portland, I'm treating you."

"Deal," smiled Phil as he handed the tab to Monica.

Anita sipped her tea, smiling and shaking her head at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," she held in a tiny laugh, "I'm just amused by you."

"Uh-oh," Phil couldn't help but smile, "What I have done?"

"Oh, nothing… I mean," she set the mug back down on the saucer, "You're a nice man. I happen to like nice men. There aren't that many men like you around."

"Well, thank you. I guess."

"You're welcome."

Silence fell across the table as they finished their drinks. Somewhere, a firecracker shrieked and popped. Phil winced a bit. The noise reminded him a bit too much of being in the line of fire and his soldier instincts kicked into gear. Instinctively, his hand slipped toward his hip to grab at a gun that wasn't there.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he smiled, reassuring, "Firework just startled me."

Anita nodded and finished up her tea. "Dad was the same way after he left the service."

"Yeah?"

She nodded, "Took him awhile to stop jumping every time a car backfired or a police cruiser turned on the sirens."

Phil nodded. It wasn't unusual among all the agents to have some residual effects of their service, to varying degrees of severity. He took a long drink of coffee as he considered it. He hadn't personally had to deal with it but some people were paralyzed by their memories. He pushed it from his mind. It wasn't the sort of thing that he wanted to be thinking of while on a date.

"That's a damn fine cup of coffee," commented Phil as he sipped his own drink, changing the subject as quickly as possible, "I'm glad my co-workers directed me here. Nice place."

"Definitely. The cherry pie is worth the stop."

Phil grabbed a mint from the bowl before leaving. Anita followed suit. They started the short walk back to her hotel. A pensive look crossed Anita's face. She had the same faraway look that Clint sometimes got when he was focusing in on a target.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," smiled Anita, turning back to him, "I was just thinking. Listening."

"To…?"

She turned to look out at the street, "The city. I know it sounds weird but I like getting a feel for the sounds of the city."

"Is it a musician thing?"

"Sort of. Cities have heartbeats," explained Anita, "Some are slow and calm, some are angry and pounding, some are joyful and bouncy."

"So, what is Portland like?"

"Raindrops," she said with a smile, "and mist and waves caught up on the wind."

"And New York?"

She closed her eyes for a second, drinking in the area around her. She could see beyond just the lights in her eyes. She could see the colors between sight and sense. She could see something intangible, possibly something far greater than the human language could express.

"It feels alive," she opened her eyes, "It feels like dozens of feet scurrying in all directions, like… syncopated notes in a symphony. It seems chaotic, but they all fall somewhere along the beat."

They paused on the street corner for a minute, just listening to traffic and the bustle of people. Taxi horns cut through the rumble as they wove in and out of traffic. Human voices, in a million different dialects rose and fell like the tide, none standing out more than the other.

"I think I'm starting to understand Gershwin better," noted Anita as the light changed and they entered the crosswalk.

Phil hadn't thought of it that way but she had a point.

"Are you going to come to the gospel Christmas concert?" she changed the subject.

"Of course," he smiled, "I have already gotten the time off and the plane ticket in my pocket."

"Good. I can't wait."

The first fireworks of the night were starting to pop overhead, sprinkling them with golden sparks. They watched as the inky sky flashed with rainbow light. He was still holding Anita's hand and she didn't seem to want to let go anytime soon.

"Pretty, isn't it?"

Phil wanted to say something smooth, like how the fireworks weren't nearly as pretty as her. But the words were getting a bit gummed up in his head and he was pretty sure whatever he was going to say wouldn't come out as well as he hoped.

"Yeah," he said lamely.

His inability to say what he wanted to was starting to annoy even him. His eyes glanced over at her face, illuminated by the red and gold of the sky. She was an artist, with a warm soul, and an open heart. He admired her, appreciated her, adored her so much it made his chest hurt.

Suddenly, he felt pulled on invisible strings. His body decided to move without fully consulting his brain. He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, lingering perhaps a second or two longer than he should have. She smelled like roses, just a light dot of perfume on the softness of her neck. Her skin had that wonderful velvety texture that only developed with age. She gasped as his lips touched her cheek, her breath rushing against his face like a breeze off the sea. Hesitating, just a moment, he leaned back to try to gauge her reaction. He didn't have a chance to tell how she looked because Anita grabbed him by his tie and pulled him back down so he was eye level with her.

"Phillip Coulson," she ordered with a wide smile on her face, "You will come back down here right now and kiss me properly."

Fireworks illuminated the night sky above the busy city streets. New Yorkers stood on roofs and balconies to watch the glitter and sparkle rain down over the river and balls of light glow over the sea. Phil and Anita created fireworks of their own, fireworks only they could see. It was a beautiful moment, which, like the night's festivities, was over too soon.

"Are you busy tomorrow?" he asked, running a hand gently across her face and through her hair. "Can you stay?"

"I would. But I have an early flight home. Gotta get back to work."

He smiled a little bit, "Stay."

She tilted her head, returning his smile, "I'll miss my flight."

"I can call in a favor and get you a flight. Stay a little longer."

She smiled a little bit and took his hand, "Okay."


	37. Pt 3 Ch 11: Brides & Books

Summer eventually wound down and the bright skies turned into the cool, crisp fall with cloudy mornings and chilly nights. The leaves on the trees were just starting to turn colors. Faint dots of ruby and gold studded the green hills. Fall was truly in the air and school was about to start.

As happy as Evelyn was to be back in class, there was still a bitter taste in her mouth. The events of the previous semester still lingered. Staying in the dorms were out of the question, even though the new RA offered to help her find a better roommate and make sure there were no problems. The idea of being in the dorms made her feel physically ill. Still, he did help her find a small studio apartment just off campus, near the labs.

The place catered almost exclusively to students with short, cheap leases. It looked alright from the outside, with rhododendron bushes by the windows, a clean coat of paint on the siding, and a roof which only had a bit of water damage. But they were still cheap apartments and the rhododendron bushes only did so much to hide the cracks in the foundation. The paint only covered up an older, chipped layer which left paint flakes like snow on the windowsills. And the water damage, though invisible on the outside, was much more of a mess on the inside.

Her apartment was tiny, barely bigger than her old dorm room. The walls were a very dated pale goldenrod color and the rough, brown, industrial carpet had a certain funky, lived-in smell wafting off of it. There was a window and a small balcony. But it was facing an ugly brick wall of the next building so there wasn't very much light getting into the room. As her father and Clint helped her carry her things up from the pickup truck, she felt a little bit depressed. At least the bathroom and kitchen were clean, if a little bit dated and cheap looking with off-white linoleum tiles, plastic drawer pulls, and aged appliances.

"We'll get some better light bulbs," said Phil as he set down a box of dishes for the kitchen, "Then this place won't be quite as gloomy."

Clint scoffed as he set down a small nightstand, "I think it is going to take more than a light bulb to cheer this place up. It's a bit like the hotel from 'The Shining.' A sprucing up isn't going to cut it. We need an exorcism."

"Stop," warned Phil, "You'll be surprised what a little cleaning up will do."

To Phil's credit he wasn't _wrong_. They made a quick run to the grocery store to pick up a few things like new light bulbs, a mop, and enough food to stock the fridge for the first week. Putting in some higher wattage bulbs did help compensate for the lack of natural lighting. Running a vacuum over the carpet did help dissipate a bit of the funky odor. Phil helped clean the countertops and mop the linoleum floors and that helped the apartment appear a little less dusty and gross. She finished the setup by lighting a few scented candles so a fresh coconut-mango smell wafted through the air. But it was still a very small, very dated space. But it was home, for the time being. As she finished unpacking and placed Captain America on her dresser, Clint returned with pizza.

"And thanks to Evey," he smiled, "I had enough holes on my punch card to get a free cinnamon roll pizza."

"A what?" Said Phil as he packed away cleaning supplies under the sink.

"Oh, dude! It's like a pizza but it's topped with that cinnamon roll filling and cream cheese frosting. It's awesome. Nat will eat this stuff by the truckful," he paused, "Don't tell her I said that."

"So now we know her weakness," smiled Evelyn as she took a slice and slapped it on her plate. She paused, "Wait… what do you mean, 'thanks to me'?"

"Well, you," Clint said awkwardly, "have a… very active metabolism. And stuff. So…"

"So I eat a lot."

Clint crammed a piece of stuffed crust piece of pizza in his mouth to render himself incapable of replying. Unfortunately, the molten cheese had other ideas.

"Ow! Motherfuc-"

"Language!" scolded Phil, holding up his finger in warning.

Clint sat next to her while they ate. He was fumbling with his phone, waiting for a call. He was always waiting on a call from SHIELD. Chances are he wouldn't (or couldn't) talk about it, so she didn't pry. Instead, she gave him an extra-long hug before he left.

"Hey, keep in touch," he said, rubbing her shoulder as he hugged her. "I wanna know about all your cool college adventures and stuff."

"My 'adventures' are going to be pretty boring, lots of homework and lab work. You probably wouldn't find it very fun."

Clint loosened his hug and brushed a lock of gingery hair from her face. He smiled at her. "Try to do something for yourself, okay? Don't be the princess up in her tower."

"I'm not a princess," she muttered, squirming in his grasp a little bit. He kissed her forehead.

He sighed in exasperation, "You can be sometimes."

"I'm not gonna fight this with you," she insisted, pushing away a little bit.

"I don't want to either," he admitted, ruffling her hair, "So take my advice and have some fun for yourself. Or I'm going to have to come down here and make you."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, I promise."

She hoped it was a real promise and not the sort of thing you said to make people feel better. They lingered in their hug for a moment or two longer. It didn't last nearly long enough and watching Clint and her father drive off left her feeling genuinely distressed as she walked back up to her empty apartment.

Over the next couple of days, she started to get used to the people around her. The neighbor above had very heavy feet which thudded left and right and back again but she never saw him or her in person. The neighbors on the left were a young couple with four kids. The mom looked perpetually exhausted, with deep purple bags under her eyes and premature wrinkling. The dad was equally as tired, but he was out of the home most of the day. The neighbor on the right was an old man who looked about a billion years old, wrinkled as a raisin and with only two teeth left in his smile. He was nearly deaf, which is probably why the upstairs neighbor or the screaming kids down the hall didn't seem to bother him much. He had a platinum blond caretaker who visited every other day named Felicia.

Also, things seemed to be mysteriously going missing around the apartment block: bikes, purses, watches, anything of any value that happened to be left around. The bulletin board in the mail room was plastered with flyers looking for missing artifacts. It was peculiar and Evelyn made sure her door was locked when she got ready to go to her first day of class.

She picked out her favorite pair of jeans for her first day and a purple button-up cardigan over a white tee shirt. A comfortable pair of clogs finished the look. She took to wearing them in the lab because they were closed toed and didn't make her legs tired when she wore them for hours on end. On top of it all, she wore the peridot necklace that her father gave her. It made her feel confident when she had none.

The walk to campus was not far but it was made more intense by the amount of stuff she had to carry around day to day. Her bag was heavy with all her textbooks. It was a canvas tote that Kitty sent her from England. The lined bag could take a beating and keep going without so much as a popped seam. It was a very nice gift and she would get a lot of mileage out of it.

Her class list was a full eighteen credits, plus the hours she put in at the mutant testing lab. Her morning classes came and went, noon came and brought a quick lunch of microwave tomato soup and a turkey sandwich, and then her afternoon classes. By the time she walked into her kinesiology class, she was utterly exhausted.

Midway though the teacher reading the syllabus aloud and going through the class expectations (to scare off the weak of heart), she felt something tap the back of her head. At first, she ignored it. She couldn't really tell if something actually hit her or if she was just feeling a puff of air or something or someone passing in the row behind her. The second time she felt the tap, she was sure it was something. Turning, she heard a snicker from a row or two back.

"Mr. Kissimmee, is something funny?" asked the professor from the front of the hall. His voice was a crotchety croak, like a grumpy old bullfrog.

"No."

"I didn't think the syllabus was particularly funny either. If you have something to _actually_ contribute, raise your hand."

That seemed to shut the student up. Evelyn glanced down to the floor to see what might have been thrown at her. It was one of those folded triangular footballs, made of a piece of wide-ruled lined paper with a rough edge, like it was torn from a composition notebook. On the side was a scribble of sloppy handwriting but she could see it spelled the word 'freak.'

She sighed, wondering if this asshole was a friend of Evan's. Perhaps he was what Clint called a "shit-disturber." They just like getting attention by being as big a bastard as humanly possible. Last time she heard that phrase, he was referring to Rumlow. During that conversation, Clint also noted 'you can't disturb the shit without getting your hands in the middle of the manure." She tried to eke some measure of comfort from those words. It helped her feel slightly less wretched though class until it was time to go home.

She was finding that the heat in her apartment was a bit unreliable. It was a steam heating system so there were plenty of cold spots and a bit of a metallic smell which lingered in the air. Evelyn pulled on a soft, slouchy black sweater to compensate for the drafts floating in the windows and creeping under the crack of the door. She felt really exhausted. It was a long day and she felt ready for everything to be over and done with.

Captain America smiled proudly down from her dresser. She didn't sleep with the doll like she did when she was a child but she kept him around mostly out of sentiment. He was comforting on a bad day and full of happy memories to make the day a little brighter. Today, she took him down from the shelf and held him close to her chest as she tried to sleep. Part of her dreaded starting school again. She hated the possibility of running into Evan. She hated the possibility of being gawked at as she went from the class to class. If given her way, she would lock herself in the lab and never come out. These thoughts swirled in her head as she cradled Cap between her arms and tried not to cry herself to sleep.

The next day was better. Nobody harassed her and it seemed like most of the school, fortunately, had decided to move on from the incident. Evan was nowhere to be seen. It was just a much better day, in general. It was also her first day back at the mutant lab. It was nice to be back in her regular habitat. For the first time since arriving back in Baltimore, she felt comfortable. The halls were quiet. Her shoes clicked against the linoleum but that was the only noise to be heard anywhere. She liked the silence, but at the same time, she felt consumed by it.

It was a relief to walk into the kitchenette and see the team gathered around like she recalled. There was Eli, Penelope, Sara, and Tyler from Kentucky. The latter two were apparently seeing each other now and acting absolutely gooey. Spending night after night producing synthetic protein strands apparently had a way of bringing people together.

"You need to drop by sometime to see my wedding dress," insisted Penelope as soon as they had some time to talk.

"I'm free all this week. Is tomorrow too early?"

"Ah, I can't do it tomorrow. Actually, all this week I'm busy," she sighed, rolling her eyes, "Wedding stuff."

"Okay, uh," Evelyn wracked her head to remember her schedule, "I think I'm not busy Monday afternoon. Will that work?"

"Yeah," said Penelope as she consulted the calendar on her phone, "That should work."

It was nice to have plans with friends, Evelyn decided as she poured herself a cup of coffee and drowned the bitter brew with dollops of vanilla Coffee Mate. It was still not the best cup of coffee she ever had. It tasted like it had been sitting out on the countertop for several hours. Eli was leaning back in the plastic chair so the legs were groaning in protest.

"When's the wedding?" asked Eli.

"Three weeks," sighed Penelope, a dreamy look in her eyes, "So exciting!"

Evelyn didn't even realize just how soon the wedding was coming up. She thought that Penelope was going to wait and save up money. Maybe the situation had changed. She made a mental note to ask about it when she went to visit Penelope and they had a private conversation.

Eli poured himself another cup of coffee. Surprisingly, he didn't add any cream or sugar, which was beyond weird. He seemed awful perky and sociable, more than usual.

"Hey, Eli. How's the girl you've been working with…um… what's her name?" Evelyn struggled to remember her name. It had only been three months since she last spoke with her co-workers and already she was losing the details.

"Amanda?"

"Yes! Her. How's she doing?"

"Not really better," he admitted, "But she has transferred to Xavier's School. Her mother thought the containment facilities would be best to prevent another disaster. I drive up there every other week to check in on things and run tests. Doctor McCoy is helping me manage the data."

"Well, that's good. At least she's somewhere that can help her."

"Yes. He's actually offered me a job," smiled Eli, "Once I'm done with my master's degree, he said he would hire me to continue my research and all I'll have to do is teach one class per semester."

"Sounds like you have everything figured out."

"Somewhat. Things are definitely looking up," he smiled and then a light flickered in his eyes as he remembered something. "By the way, I found some interesting things in your blood work. I have some observations on the main drive. I'll e-mail them to you."

"Oh, thanks," she said offhandedly. She would read it eventually, when she got around to it. Her mind was otherwise occupied.

Between Amanda and her co-worker Jay's son, she had to come in contact with a lot of sick kids in the past year and the idea was more than a bit troubling. It seemed especially unfair that these things happened to a child. Adults had time to live and experience all the world had to offer before having to face death but children didn't have that opportunity.

She sat down at the computer after she finished her tasks for the lab and logged into the Worldcat database to look up some medical journals. Not many journal at the school library were digitally indexed yet, so she would have to make a trip to the library the next morning to pick up hard copies of most things. But she could do her research now and see if she could put any on hold. She entered in "childhood diseases" as a search query to begin. She spent the rest of her shift following the train of thought down the rabbit hole. By the time she left, there were two articles printed out and another four ready for pickup in the morning.

Not that she had an abundance of time for extra reading. Although the first week of classes were light on reading, she was in higher-level classes now and it meant extensive note-taking, lots of dry textbooks, and carpel-tunnel inducing amounts of research papers and book reports. But maybe her personal reading could result in research for a school paper eventually. The first week of school actually gave way to a quiet weekend.

There was an early storm raging outside. Rain tapped against the window, rolling down the glass, reflecting the light so the whole room was tinted azure. Some part of her was grateful that the rain was there to clear the air. But the gray skies and seemingly never ending gloom only highlighted how small and cooped up she felt. As the sun sank behind the buildings, the night came quickly. She couldn't very well go outside or even open a window. So she was stuck in a drywall prison. It was torture. She felt like she was going a bit insane. Over the course of one morning, she cleaned just about the entire apartment, did laundry, memorized the pattern of the popcorn ceiling, finished the fairly light first week homework, made her lunch for the next day, and it was only about noon by the time she finished. She wanted to scream.

There were the lab results from her blood tests that Eli had been working on, as well as a handful of journals that she wanted to read. There was a publication from the American Cancer Society which provided a nice overview of childhood cancers that she wanted to copy down for future use. She supposed she could work on those but the room itself felt like a prison that she needed to leave, if only for a short while.

She created little "fairy lights" in the air to amuse herself. She really hadn't created these in quite some time. But it did help warm up the place and compensate for the shoddy heating. It also helped release a little bit of the persistent buzz which always ran just under her skin. Her mind wandered back to the medical journals. Could she use her powers to help cure some of these kids?

Maybe.

She also wasn't about to pretend that the process was at all controlled or at all sterile. That would have to change. Her classes taught her enough about infections to know that she hadn't exactly been thinking about cleanliness up to this point and it was frankly nothing short of a miracle nothing had gone septic on her watch. However, wearing gloves didn't really help since latex and plastic both melted pretty much as soon as she started channelling energy.

But…

Maybe if she was clever, there was a solution to that particular problem. She pulled on a pair of running shoes and threw on a scarf before heading out into the rain. She found silver wire from the craft store and a pair of heavy work gloves from a local hardware store. The next stop was to the craft store for the rest of the supplies. Sitting at the work table with a spool of thread, an X-acto knife, and a heavy-duty leather needle, she began working on her project. It took a long time to get it to look like the image she had in her head, but finally she had a pair of sterile gloves which could transmit the energy from her hands.

However, when she tried it out, it didn't quite work like she expected. The textured surface of the gloves started to melt. Evelyn stopped the flow of energy and tried to disentangle her gloves from her hands. The fabric part of the gloves then burst into flames. Evelyn threw them into the sink and hastily turned on the tap. Cold water soaked the wet mass of sticky, melted, and charred fabric. Fortunately, the fire alarm didn't go off.

"Okay. Trying again."

It was back to the hardware store for even more silver wire and a few more pairs of cheap garden gloves. This time she opted to attach the thick pieces of silver wire to the gloves using a thinner wire rather than thread. It worked marginally better but still burst into flames after a few seconds. This time she needed to douse the thing in baking soda to smother the flames. The fire alarm chirped and Evelyn had to open a window to air out the haze of smoke.

It was back to the hardware store to gather more supplies. When she got there, a thin boy with braces was working the garden center. Evelyn walked up to him with a question about garden gloves."

"Do you have anything fireproof?"

"Fireproof?" the guy looked around and started to look up and down the aisles, "I think we might have something. I'll check with the manager."

As the kid walked away, it occurred to Evelyn that she may want to think up a cover story in case he asked. Chances were he wasn't going to, but maybe he would. Maybe she needed to have a good reason for it. After wracking her brain for a few minutes she settled on the story that she was setting up a backyard smoker. That seemed to be good enough of an excuse.

Unfortunately, when the kid returned to direct her to the gloves, he didn't ask to hear her brilliant excuse. Evelyn found herself a little bit disappointed. She was trying hard to doing the whole SHIELD spy thing but never had a chance to practice. So it was a bit of a bummer.

So she was buried once again in the work of putting together her vision. It took until evening to come up with a prototype. It was kind of a mess. The glove had been cut apart and sewn back together like some sort of Frankenstein monster and there were loose wires sticking out the sides. When she tested them, she could feel the energy flowing through the wires and gathering in a more streamlined position. The lights seemed to glow a little more brightly, gathering into orbs and bubbling off the gloves like the blobs in a lava lamp. It seemed to be working fine, at least for the time being. At the end of it all, the gloves were signed but not completely ruined. The silver did a pretty good job of directing the energy generally where she wanted it to go. Maybe if the gloves were better fitting, it would work a little better.

"Well, that's something," she decided, too tired to continue to work this night.

She continued to tweak the design over the next couple of days. She found that bending the wires slightly to create a circular ring in the middle of her palm helped focus the energy into a central beam. She wanted to see if she could replicate the same pattern on the fingertips to see if she could create a smaller beam but she also promised Penelope that she would drop by to see the wedding dress.

"I need your new address so I can send you a wedding invite," said Penelope right after she arrived, "I'd give it to you now but all the stuff is with Josh's mom right now. I just don't have room for all the stuff."

"I understand," said Evelyn sympathetically as she pulled off her flats before walking into the apartment.

"Who would have thought there was so much _stuff_ that went into a wedding? Seriously? Last week, Josh and I were having a serious conversation about going to the courthouse and eloping. I mean the food, the venue, the flowers, _dresses!_ God, don't get me started about bridesmaid dresses. It is a _nightmare_ trying to get everyone together for the fittings and stuff. Then everyone has an opinion about the dresses: color, style, even the shoes to wear with it! Ugh! Sorry, I'm ranting but wedding has been my _life_ for the whole summer."

Evelyn wanted to relate but couldn't. She just hadn't spent much time around weddings. Kitty loved weddings and had lots of ideas. Together they flicked through the magazines, laughing at ugly bridesmaid dresses and gawking at several thousand dollar gowns with impractical amounts of glitter. But other than that, she didn't really know all that much about weddings or wedding planning. She honestly hadn't thought about her own wedding. One needed to have a serious partner before seriously thinking about her wedding and that step was probably the most difficult one. She certainly failed at it.

"Do you want to see the dress?" smiled Penelope. She was already hurrying to the bedroom to pull it out, pretty much regardless of if Evelyn said yes or no. Her excitement was obvious. It took a while for Penelope to change into the gown. It wasn't until she stepped out of the master bathroom that Evelyn realized what took so long.

Penelope wore a very large, very beautiful, pure white wedding dress. The full length skirt was stuffed with layers of puffy petticoats. There was lace and beads all over the skirt so it shimmered as she moved. It had an illusion top, sheer material and clusters of sequins and lace all the way up to the neckline and continued down to long sleeves. The beautiful bride spun in the bedroom mirror so Evelyn could admire the gown from all angles.

"It's certainly impressive," said Evelyn as Penelope turned around in a full circle so she could see the dress from all angles, "It's really… sparkly."

"I wanted something a bit simpler," admitted Penelope, "But Mom insisted on something big and fluffy. I wasn't really interested but then I tried this on and… it just worked. It was the _perfect_ dress!"

Evelyn was wondering if the definition of 'perfect' had changed since she last looked it up. Granted, it was pretty even if Evelyn could never see herself wearing something like that. There was too much fluff and bedazzling for her tastes. But Penelope looked like a fairy tale princess, even without hair and makeup done. She pulled out the veil for Evelyn to see.

It was a long cathedral veil, folded neatly in the box and surrounded with pale pink tissue paper. It was made of lace and more of the same, shiny glass beads on the dress. She didn't take it out of the box, but it was still very pretty.

"Everything else is pretty simple," explained Penelope, "But I wanted the dress and the veil to be nice."

"So where are you going to hold the ceremony?"

"It's gonna be at Josh's church with his pastor. They've known each other for ages. And that's fine with me. I like them. And to save money we are going to hold the reception in the church rec hall. I know it's not super romantic or anything but the price is right."

"Where are you honeymooning?"

"Oh," she shrugged, "Neither of us have a lot of money for a honeymoon. We decided we would rather save it and put a down payment for a house. So, we're just going to spend a long weekend in the city."

"You'll enjoy yourself."

Penelope itched her neck. The lace on the illusion top was clearly causing her problems and irritating the delicate skin on her neck. "I'll tell you what I'll be enjoying. I'll be enjoying some of the gifts the cousins have given me at the bachelorette party."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. His sisters are a bit crazy. I got all sorts of panties and condoms and things that I don't actually know what to do with," she shrugged, "But, you know, they're all married. I'm assuming they're giving good advice about the wedding night stuff."

"Have you ever… you know?" asked Evelyn. It was prying, but she was curious. Maybe some part of her was looking for advice. Maybe part of her was just being a bit too inquisitive for her own good.

Penelope blushed, "No. Uh, not even with Josh. I was actually a little surprised he was okay with moving in together and, you know, sleeping in the same bed. He's kind of old fashioned. So, I really did need the sisters and cousins and stuff giving me all the advice they could because I don't have a clue what I'm doing."

Evelyn would be lying if she said the same. It was part of studying medicine, you had to learn the various functions of the human body and that included reproduction. It was all in a clinical sense, of course. All of her curiosity was out of a genuine desire for medical knowledge. Or _mostly_ a desire for medical knowledge.

"So, uh, when was the bachelorette party?"

"We had it over the summer. His sister, Agatha, arranged it. I would have asked her to invite you but it was kind of a surprise to me too. And I don't know if she knows who you are."

"Yeah, uh, that makes sense," she muttered. "I was busy anyway."

"I thought you were. I didn't hear much from you over the summer."

That made the awful feeling in Evelyn's stomach double in size. She already felt a bit upset about being left out, but now she couldn't really blame her either. It was a sick sort of feeling which sat in her gut, confused and stagnant. Privately, she admonished herself for making this all about her. It was Penelope's wedding and she honestly had no say in the matter. She had no right to feel excluded.

Except she totally did.

"Hey!" said Josh as he walked in the front door, "Penelope? Where are you?"

"Josh! Don't come in the bedroom! I'm in my dress!"

"What dress? _The_ dress?"

"Yes, _the_ dress. I'm showing Evelyn."

"Alright, alright," he closed the door, "I'm not disturbing anything. I want to be surprised."

And indeed he was surprised on the wedding day. It was actually a very beautiful moment. Evelyn sat toward the middle back of the church and watched the proceedings. Actually she was beginning to itch a bit because the drugstore pantyhose she picked up the night before didn't quite fit properly, rode up in the back, and rubbed so her skin started to turn pink. On top of it all, the ceremony seemed to last about a year. Since when did weddings take so long? _Why_ did weddings take so long?

At least it served as a nice opportunity to meet some of her friend's family as she went down the reception line once . Josh's mother, Dolores, was a large African-American woman. She was exceptionally elegant with a pretty pink and blue patterned dress and matching high heels. She wore a pearl necklace, bracelets, and earrings. To top it all off, she had on a straw hat filled with colorful ribbons on top her short, tightly curled hair. Her makeup was impeccable, almost professional. In the reception line, she hugged Penelope warmly, almost engulfing her. The petite bride was easily a third of her size, even in the voluminous dress.

His father, Abe, was a taller, thinner man with slightly lighter skin than his wife. He had salt and pepper hair and a matching beard which was trimmed and neat. He had a wide smile and a strange, almost jig-like, walk. Both his parents spoke loud, their voices booming across the hall and laughter filling the room up to the rafters.

Josh had four older sisters, all of whom were married and all of them had a batch of children of their own. The children ranged in age from ten years old to two months old. The sheer amount of children running around the reception hall was enough to make Evelyn feel a bit tired just watching them. Exhausted mothers threw back the contents of their champagne flutes and then went to chase after the kids. In that moment, Evelyn began to seriously reconsider any thoughts she may have had regarding having kids of her own someday.

Penelope's family, in contrast, was smaller. She explained that many of them were still back over in Asia and making the trip across the ocean was not practical. They still sent cards and gifts, wrapped in simple brown paper and tied with red and gold ribbons. Her mother, Sandra, who was even shorter than Penelope, wore a pink traditional dress. Her nails were manicured and her silky hair was pulled up into a tight bun and fastened with a pin made of rosewood. Her father, Michael, had a severe face but on the day of his daughter's wedding he was smiling and happy. He wore a pressed suit and a red tie.

Evelyn finally had the chance to meet Penelope's older sister, Linda, and her daughter, Gina. Even though Gina was only twelve, she looked very much like her aunt with the same round face and a matching dimpled smile which showed off their round cheeks. Apparently Gina could walk up walls due to very tiny, almost microscopic, barbed hairs on her body. You would never know by looking at her.

"Penelope told me you wrote the recommendation for her to attend Xavier's school," said Linda in lightly accented English, grasping Evelyn's hands between hers, "I can't tell you how grateful I am for all your help."

"I'm happy to help. I know how it feels to be… different."

They turned to look over a Gina, who was playing with two of Josh's nieces who were about her age. She was smiling, happy as they threw a balloon up in the air and raced around trying to catch it. Laughter bubbled from their lips like a clear spring of water on a sunny day. They danced and played like normal kids.

"She was teased in school," admitted Linda, "People tend to not know what to do around something… someone… who is different. So, it was hard to try to explain to her that the whole school didn't hate her, they just didn't know how to act around her. I don't know how well she understood. But, now that she is at the right school, she can focus on studying and being around people who treat her well."

Evelyn nodded. It was a familiar feeling.

Linda pulled something from her bag and handed her a card, "I know it's not much, but I wanted to give you a little something. Penelope told me you liked coffee."

Evelyn opened the small envelope and inside was a Starbucks card. She smiled, "Thank you. You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," insisted Linda, "It's the least I can do."

Evelyn took the card and tucked the gift into her purse. Linda went off to speak with other family members after a short while, so Evelyn was left alone with a slice of cake and a plastic cup full of sparkling cider.

She couldn't help but feel a bit like an outsider looking in at the party. Evelyn knew Josh and Penelope, but not really. Not personally. Not in the same way as all the aunts, uncles, and the multitude of cousins did. She wasn't even a bridesmaid. Hell, she wasn't even invited to the bachelorette party. It wasn't that she was jealous, it just made her fixate on her lonely feelings.

After the reception, she spent a long time wandering around Baltimore. She didn't want to go back to her cold, dark apartment until she had to. So she spent the evening in a nearby Starbucks. The gift card Linda gave her was burning a hole in her pocket. They were playing music she liked: Counting Crows and Diana Krall. It was the perfect pairing as rain clouds started to gather above the shop and fat little raindrops plopped against the sidewalk. She indulged in a pumpkin spice latte and watched the rain pick up. She would have been content to sit there all night but eventually the store would close and she would have to choice but to head home.

Her phone rang. The number was familiar and one she had not seen in quite a while. Excitedly, she opened her phone and heard Kitty's voice on the other end of the line.

"Evey! I'm going to be back in town on Wednesday!"

"Really?" She perked up.

"Yeah! Oh my God, I can't wait to tell you about England it was _amazing_!

A smile broke across her face, "Can you come down to Baltimore to hang out?"

"Sure! When are you free?"

Evelyn couldn't stop her smile from overtaking the gloomy mood. "Anytime."


	38. Pt 3 Ch 12: Stark Summer

"Papa!" Evelyn ran into the apartment. "Papa, are you here?"

"Kitchen!" called Phil, "What's up, Evey? You're home a bit early."

"Traffic was good," said Evelyn in explanation, "I have _amazing_ news!"

"Okay…?" Phil asked as he turned off the heat on the stove. He was making sloppy joes since a lot of people were going to be over to see Evelyn now that she was back from school for the summer, diploma in hand. It was a fun little graduation party.

"So, you know the paper I've been working on for my final project? The one about using energy on cancer cells to inhibit the cell growth?"

Phil tried to remember. She went on a very long-winded and technically nuanced one-sided conversation on the phone. He only understood about half of it, the rest flew clean over his head. "Sort of."

"Well, on a lark, Professor McKenzie suggested that I submit it to a journal, just to see if I _could_ get it published _aaaaaaaaaaaaand_ " she smiled, "I got an answer back from 'The Journal of Cancer Science and Therapy.' They want me to rework some parts but they think it shows some promise and they are interested in publishing it this summer!"

Phil smiled, "Honey, that's wonderful! I'm so proud of you."

He pulled his daughter into a hug. She smelled softly of strawberries. He always loved a chance to hug his precious girl and keep her close to his heart. He had been looking forward to this day for some time.

"Is Clint in town?" she asked when they broke the hug.

"Yes. He and Natasha will be dropping by to see you."

"Sweet!" she smiled, "Who else is dropping by for the graduation party?"

"Anita wanted to fly out to see your graduation but one of her nieces happens to be graduating from high school up in Seattle tomorrow. I guess they are doing a small family reunion up there. But she is going to Skype us here in a bit."

"Sweet. I can't wait to hear from her."

"Bobbi and Maria are going to drop by in a bit. Nick is going to see if he can make it. Sharon might be coming too. Her aunt is in the hospital again."

Evelyn bit her lip a little bit. Peggy had the typical issues of old age. It only made sense. She was in her eighties now. She worked fairly actively in SHIELD up until very recently and that was astonishing. A broken hip three years ago limited her mobility severely but it did not interfere with her mind or her stubbornness. Sharon did end up arriving for the small party. She reported that her aunt was moving into an assisted living facility, not that she was very happy about it.

"She and mom are moving into adjacent suites," reported Sharon, "And Aunt Peggy was very specific that she didn't want people fussing over her. So she has an emergency call button for when she needs help but otherwise she is pretty much living on her own. There is just a nurse and some other staff on call to make sure nothing else happens."

"Director Carter was always very hands-on and liked to do things herself," said Nick, taking another helping of sloppy joes and fries off the tray, "I can't say I am really surprised that bleeds over to her personal life."

"It scares the hell out of me," admitted Sharon, "I am scared to death that she's going to break her hip again and I'm-"

"You're taking every precaution," interjected Bobbi as she picked at a spinach salad. She was on one of her vegetarian kicks. "That's the best you can do to keep everyone as happy as possible."

"I know," sighed Sharon, "I know."

The mood shifted when Nick spoke, "So, tell me a little bit about the cactus baby getting published and becoming a real scientist?"

Evelyn produced a stack of papers, about twenty seven pages in all, including appendices, diagrams, and other miscellany. Clint blinked at it a few times before taking a long drink of Pepsi.

"The result of pulsating energy on melanoma for purposes of cancer therapy," read Phil aloud, "By Evelyn J. Carlton and Penelope C. Lewis. Honey, this is fantastic!"

"So, explain this to me," said Nick as he began reading it line by line.

"Well, uh, it's the same basic principle as my powers. You can use energy to promote cell growth or you can use it to inhibit cell growth. It's just a matter of the proportions and where you target it. So this is about using that to treat skin cancers. If all goes well and I can get some funding, I'd like to see if this can be expanded to other kinds of cancers."

"I'm surprised they let you work on it in the mutant lab," noted Phil.

"Well, because some mutations cause photosensitivity. Martin, for example, is sensitive to light and more likely to be susceptible to skin cancers. Because of that, I was able to slip this one in. The targeting mechanism I propose in this can also be used for a variety of surgeries. Anything that requires a steady hand or the ability to target one location in particular. If I can get a mockup of this and get the programming just right, it could be something with a lot of applications."

"But you need funding?" inquired Nick, a twinkle in his eye.

"We all need funding," shrugged Evelyn, "Laboratories require all sorts of materials, from glassware to biological samples. All of those cost money. Not to mention things like paying the staff or cleaning up biomedical waste. So, yeah, funding is a biggie."

Nick had something like a smile on his lips, "Interesting. You ever looked into patenting this?"

"Patent?"

"Yeah," said Nick, "Probably wouldn't be a bad idea to protect your intellectual property while you are testing it. Plus, that way you can make some money off of it. I can put you in contact with someone at our office if you are interested."

"I might do that."

"Well, the sooner the better," instructed Nick.

The conversation with Nick became lost among dozens of other conversations, both at the party and after the party. Kitty called to wish her congratulations and plan and summer trip to the X-Mansion. Anita called to wish her congratulations and promise a graduation in the gift was in the mail. Professor McKenzie called to wish her good luck over the summer and that he couldn't wait to see her the next semester for the start of her graduate work. Penelope called to say hello and made her promise to keep in touch. It ended up being a long day.

Evelyn went into her bedroom in the family apartment. It had been a long time since she slept here but it was as familiar as ever. Once she put her childhood Captain America doll back on his spot on the dresser, it was like she had never left.

Almost.

There were a few boxes left over from school that she didn't have time to unpack today. They were mostly papers from school, some clothing, and housewares which needed to go back into storage. She almost decided to put it off but her eyes fell on a manila folder on top. It had her name scrawled on it.

A long while ago, Ian had sent her some information about her blood chemistry. She had saved the information in a folder and put it off to the side but never got around to reading it. Tonight, she sat down and started reading it. It was dry and clinical reading, the sort of prose which could only be appreciated by someone with more than a passing interest in science.

Apparently, the thing he found interesting and wanted to draw her attention to were three previously undiscovered protein structures in the blood which ought not be there. Two appeared to be a globulins which assisted with the immune system. The third was a regulatory protein which had something to do with gene expression. She wasn't sure exactly what that meant. Even in the notes, Ian made a sidebar which essentially said that he didn't where these came from or why they were there. That would require further testing.

Evelyn sat back on her bed among her pillows and looked at the ceiling. She had been trying to find who she was for years. Mutations were not the answer, but there was something slightly genetically different about her. She was an unusual case, one which may never be solved. The realization stung. It wasn't sad enough to elicit tears but it certainly didn't mean her sleep that evening came easily.

As difficult as that was to wrap her mind around, she was just going to have to find a way to live with the fact she was different. She placed the document in a file folder and tucked it into her desk. Perhaps there would be a day when there were answers. Ambiguity was the new way of life.

And with that attitude, she went back to work at Stark Industries. Evelyn was grateful to see the organization she set up last year was still in place this year. The files were actually really neat and tidy. There was a schedule for cleaning and maintenance on the whiteboard. It did her heart good to see her improvements were so readily adopted. She was actually making a difference and that made her happy.

"You've graduated already?" said Will incredulously when they met up once again, "But you've only been in school for, like, two years or something. What kind of mega genius are you and what are you doing _here_?"

Evelyn smiled, rolled her eyes, "It's actually less impressive than that. I had a lot of advanced placement courses through high school so when I started college, I was basically a sophomore. So, I took regular courses plus summer classes. A lot of hard work just means that I moved along quickly."

"How _have_ you maintained your sanity?" asked Will, "I was taking half the classes you did, and I thought I would go crazy from the workload."

"Lots of coffee," she offered meekly.

"I guess," said Will, shaking his head.

"I also am going to be published next month," said Evelyn proudly.

"Published? Published where?" his ears perked up in interest and a sparkle extended into his eyes.

"'The Journal of Cancer Science and Therapy.'"

"Wow!" he smiled, "We need to make a wall of fame or something for all the people in the department which are published scientists!"

Evelyn smiled, "You too?"

"And Jay," said Will, "Giving credit where credit is due. Mine was about electron harvesting and magnetic fields. Jay's been published a couple of times for a couple of different things. Most of it has to do with the arc reactor but one of my favorite articles of his was a proposition for tiny motors powered by Tesla-style atmospheric energy. It's pretty kickass."

"But does it work?"

"It's just a postulation," he shrugged, "But since it is small-scale, I think it has a chance of working. And if we get permission, the arc reactor would be the perfect central conductor."

It sounded cool. It sounded a bit like science fiction. But far-fetched ideas sometimes resulted in more practical things. The cell phone in her pocket was a prime example of that.

"So, your paper ended up being part of the arc reactor?" she asked in clarification.

"Well, somewhat," he said, "The arc reactor was already a theory. My part of it is just the magnetic field to make this a more effective generator and… yada yada yada it saves money. That's why I got hired."

"I'd love to read your paper."

He perked up a bit, smiling, "Really? 'Cuz, if you really mean that, I have a copy of it!"

"You keep a copy of it on hand?"

"Well, yeah," said Will quickly as he hurried to his desk, "I've only been published once. It means a lot to me."

He handed her a stack of papers so she could read it when she had the time. The title read: "The Use of Magnetic Fields for Efficient Harvesting of Ambient Electron Harvesting by S. William Stone." If Evelyn was feeling more like a smart aleck, she would have commented the whole thing sounded like a Fallout Boy song. But the initial before his name was the thing that caught her eye first. When she asked about it, Will had a simple explanation.

"To tell the truth, William is my middle name," he explained, "My first name is too embarrassing for words."

"What is it?"

He paused, smiled, "I should probably preface everything by saying that both my parents are major hippies. They went to Woodstock, and lived in San Francisco, and they are totally into the give peace a chance and free love thing. So, they named me Siddartha."

"Really?" Evelyn smiled.

"Yeah," he rubbed his neck a bit in embarrassment, "My dad is actually Buddhist. He and mom are actually in Nepal right now working to teach English at a monastery. My mom is kind of an… earth child. She has her own beliefs which are an eclectic mix of whatever speaks to her. So, my sisters and I all ended up with funny names."

"You have sisters?"

"Two. Both are older than me. Lakshmi works in Costa Rica and builds wells and irrigation systems for underdeveloped villages. Innara went into ayurvedic medicine and is currently working in a clinic in Uttar Pradesh. I'm considered the black sheep of the family for having a 'normal' job."

Evelyn tucked the paper into her bag so she could read it later when she wasn't on the clock. There was actually a more pressing question that she had been reluctant to ask. It almost took to the end of the day before she gathered up enough courage to bring it up to Will.

"I actually have a question for you," she finally said quietly, "And I hope you don't mind me asking."

"No, I will not marry you," he joked, smiling to break the ice. "For real, though. What's your question?"

"I hope you aren't offended, but I want to put in a transfer to medical resources," said Evelyn quickly, getting the entire thought out all at once.

"Why on earth would I be offended?"

Evelyn stammered for a second. "I… uh… uhm… but…"

"Honestly, I'm not exactly shocked you didn't want to stick around. I knew you were a medical person and that whatever we did would probably bore the hell out of you," Will explained, "But I still insisted that they hire you."

"Why?"

"Because, you actually believe in innovation and making the world a better place. You don't just say it, I get the impression that you believe it. And I'm not looking for someone who can say the right thing to get a job. I could train a monkey to do that. But people who have a genuine desire to make something that matters, that's special. That's an attitude that is worth promoting. That's the attitude that I want to have around here. I dunno if you've noticed, but we need some of that mojo, that energy."

Evelyn shrugged one shoulder, "I really haven't done much."

"You've done a lot. It's been an honor and a blessing having you around," Will smiled at her, "Out of curiosity, however, where are you applying to transfer?"

"Well, I recently saw an opening in research and development. I would like to try to pursue that. I might actually have a chance to build something to help people."

"Hm. Well, I think you have a good chance of getting it. Publishing is a good first step. It means you are serious about your work. And you have experience in multiple fields, medical and engineering. That looks really good to you. It may be a good idea to get experience in either electronics or programming but other than that, I think you are in a good place. I see no reason why they shouldn't hire you."

Those words brought some comfort to Evelyn. Finally, the work was going to pay off. The long nights and frustrating classes, the planning and the mind-numbing and repetitive lab work was going to net some kind of result. All the stress and all the aggravation would soon come to an end. It made the days at work more exciting. She looked forward to hearing news, good or ill.

About a month after submitting her application, Evelyn was working in the lab by herself. She had a book on electrical circuitry in one hand and a soldering iron in the other. The tool was not her own. She borrowed it from Will so she could start to practice using it and learning how it functions. Jay soon walked from the elevator,

"Hey, Evelyn? You've been paged three times."

"What?" Evelyn squeaked, dropping what she was doing.

"Pepper Potts is trying to reach you," said Jay, jerking a thumb upward, "Twentieth floor."

Evelyn hurried to the elevator. Here was hoping that whatever Pepper had to say to her wasn't incredibly important. Her heart was fluttering in her chest. Perhaps this was the announcement that she was waiting for and she was going to talk about her transfer. In preparation, she tossed her hair and examined her face in the reflective surface of the elevator walls. Her long gingery hair was a bit flyaway with the humidity of early summer. Fingers flew between the locks to try to make them lay flat. She smeared on some tinted chapstick to her lips to appear a little more made up.

"Have you seen Tony?" asked Pepper as soon as she walked into the office.

Evelyn felt her stomach sink into her shoes. Was that honestly what Pepper brought her all the way up here to talk about? She tried to remain hopeful and told herself that maybe this wasn't the only thing.

"No," said Evelyn, trying to maintain an even tone to her voice, "I thought he was at that thing in… Amsterdam or Munich or wherever…"

"Bern," corrected Pepper, although the way she said the word sounded a little like a threat. "And he came back from that last night. I just got a message that he was looking for you."

Evelyn blinked, "Me?"

Evelyn paused for a long moment, trying to remember if she even caught a glimpse of Tony earlier in the day. As far as she knew, he hadn't set foot anywhere near the arc reactor. She had been distracted with learning the ropes of the soldering iron but she wasn't _that_ out of it.

"I've been down in the clean energy labs all morning, Miss Potts. Tony hasn't been down there all day."

Pepper looked confused and reached over, dialing a number on the phone.

"Tony? Where are you? We have a meeting on your schedule."

She paused. Evelyn shifted from foot to foot, unsure if her presence was still needed. It seemed like this was not about what she had hoped it was about. It was a disappointment, to say the least. She just about to turn and leave when she caught Pepper waving at her to stay.

"Tony… she is in energy labs, not manufacturing. If you want to speak to her, she is in my office right now." Pepper looked up at her from under the fringe of her bangs, eyes slightly narrowed. "Okay, if you are sure, I'll send her on her way."

Evelyn slowly walked out of the room, feeling very uneasy. Why on earth did Tony Stark want to see her? Pepper hung up the phone and sighed, picking up a gold pen from the table to sign a series of triplicate forms on her desk. She took them, gathering them together and straightening them so she could paperclip them together. Pepper looked up.

"Is there something else you need?"

Evelyn stammered for a second and then spoke, "I, uh, I wanted to know if you had considered my, um, transfer request at all."

Pepper sighed, and stood, "I'm sorry Miss Carlton, but your transfer request has been rejected."

In that moment, Evelyn was fairly certain she forgot to breathe. Her heart stopped beating. Static prickled in her brain. She could almost see her dreams swirling down the drain and flushing right into the septic system. Sweaty palms froze. It was all for nothing. All her hard work, gone. Disappeared. In one cruel second.

"W-why?" she stammered, shocked. She had been so sure she had this one in the bag. Everything seemed to indicate she was a shoo-in for the role.

"I'm sorry," apologized Pepper, standing, "It wasn't my decision."

Evelyn followed her to the elevator, not quite finished. The answer wasn't satisfying to her. She needed answers, real answers. Not this evasive nonsense. But words were not coming smoothly and she seemed to be making only vague noises instead of coherent words.

"The clean energy project needs you more Evelyn," explained Pepper, tapping the button to the seventh floor.

Evelyn frowned. It wasn't really untrue. They were short staffed already and Will had already expressed that he was loath to lose her. But she had hoped there would be a new batch of interns coming in with the summer rush.

Pepper sneezed once. Loudly. Evelyn turned back to look at her boss. Her eyes were pink around the edges and slightly swollen. As Evelyn looked, she saw Pepper sneeze again and then a third time in rapid succession.

"Miss Potts? Are you okay?" whispered Evelyn back to her boss, digging through her purse to find tissues and pass them back.

"Sorry… I don't know what came over me…" sniffed Pepper, "M-must be allergies or something…"

Her eyes were getting worse and worse just as she watched. Pepper sneezed three more times in rapid succession before excusing herself to the hall. Evelyn gathered her papers up again and started rushing after Pepper. She continued to sneeze again and again with increasing velocity.

"Are you allergic to anything?"

"Strawberries, just strawberries," she sniffled.

"Oh… " whispered Evelyn, voice petering off, "Do you have to eat the strawberries or is it the smell."

"If the smell is strong… yes…"

"I have strawberry shampoo," admitted Evelyn.

"Oh," muttered Pepper as she held a tissue over her runny nose, "That… that makes sense."

"I guess I can't be in the same room as you… for today."

Evelyn got off at the twelfth floor and let Pepper descend ahead of her. While she waited for the next elevator, she had plenty of time to think. It wasn't the end of the world that her transfer to research and development was turned down, it just felt like it. She gazed into a great black void. For the first time in her life, Evelyn felt intensely aware of her place in time and space. She stood upon a precipice. The future that seemed so certain dissolved. In front of her was emptiness and silence. She was ashamed to admit that she had no idea what to do now. She had no plan B. _That was frightening_.

When she finally got home, Phil sat down and made her a cup of tea. She didn't drink it. She just stared into the swirling golden liquid, feeling utterly alone even though her father was sitting next to her. She heard about tea leaves telling the future but all she saw were little green floating specks at the bottom of her cup. It looked a little bit like an arch or a bent cross, but she had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

"I don't know what to do."

Phil took a deep breath, "There will be something else. It's not over."

"I know. I just… I was really hoping it would work out. I had… plans," she wiped her eyes. That made her feel terrible. She didn't want to cry over this but she couldn't help but feel awful. Scared. Lost.

"You know, they say 'when God closes a door, he opens a window,'" suggested Phil, "Maybe this isn't your path but there is another one coming. Everything will be fine in the end."

She smiled slightly, "I guess. It's just… I was so hoping… I wanted it so bad."

Phil pulled her into a hug. She buried her face in his jacket. It was comforting to be held in his arms like this and envelop herself in the familiar smell of his cologne and the softness of the jacket. It was like being a child again. During that time, she could dream and be and never have to worry about the next day. Problems seemed smaller. The grown-up world was so far away. Now she was in the middle of it, and it was not going like the expected.

"How about we go out for dinner tonight?" suggested Phil. "Just you and me. And we could go to a movie. I know you've been wanting to see the new _Harry Potter_ movie."

"I guess," muttered Evelyn.

Phil went off to get his jacket and get ready to go. Evelyn sat for a minute and sipped her tea. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. She reminded herself it would be fine. This wouldn't be the first time things didn't work. It wasn't the end of the world. She tried to find comfort in that.

Suddenly, her phone rang. The noise actually surprised her a bit, as she had long been stuck deep in thought for so long. The caller ID was unfamiliar to her but it was a Manhattan area code. Thinking it could have been Jay or Will, she answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Cinderella," said a voice on the other end of the phone, "I just so happened to find an article with your name on it earlier this week. Really well done. I was trying to find you earlier to chat about it, but it seemed like we missed each other."

Evelyn sat there dumbly as she heard words in her ear but did not hear words in her brain. "What?"

"Your article. I read it. Last night."

"Who are you?"

"This is Tony."

Pause. Confusion. Recognition. Realization. Shock.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Yup, ten points to Gryffindor."

Evelyn sat the phone down for a second and stared down at it in confusion. She blinked a few times and then picked the phone up again. Taking a deep breath she decided to see exactly where this rabbit hole ended.

"Sir, how did you get this number?"

"Stop with the 'sir,' okay? And the 'mister' stuff. It's cute but very 'Leave it to Beaver.' I got your number from company records," said Tony easily, "So, do you want to come to an event? It's the Stark Foundation Music Dedication party. Something we do every year. It's a week from today."

"What?" She was starting to feel really inarticulate. Her vocabulary was reduced to one-word questions.

"You're under no obligation," said Tony, "I was going with a cousin but she decided that she would rather spend the first week of summer in Monaco. Something about a car show or whatever. Can you believe that?"

"Um, why me?"

"Just thought you would be good for the job. If nothing else, you would be more interesting conversation. I'm sure Pepper will have some sort of pay compensation or whatever you want. You'll have to talk to her about that. It's not particularly my arena. I'm sure something is in it for you. At the very least there's dinner. Probably a damn good dinner. Never say no to free food. Ever."

"Uh…" muttered Evelyn uneasily before snapping into her proper response mode, "Uh, sure. Sure. I can be there."

"You are a lifesaver and an angel. Pepper better watch or she will be out of a job. I gotta go."

"Okay, well, thank you for…" the line clicked on the other end before she could finish the sentence. She turned to look back at Phil who was surveying her, one eyebrow quirked in interest. He handed her a jacket.

"What was that?"

"I guess I'm going to the Stark Foundation Music Dedication… thing for Mr. Stark. Someone else was going to go but they couldn't make it."

"Was it Tony Stark who asked?"

Evelyn paused for a second. Her father probably wouldn't approve of Tony Stark. He didn't exactly have the best reputation. He rolled his eyes whenever Tony's name came up. She felt the need to play her cards properly at this point.

"This could be my one chance to move up," she said quickly, trying to make the case before her father immediately shut this idea down, "Maybe if I can put in a good word with the boss, I can get a place in R and D. My transfer may have been denied this time but if I can chat with him, I might be able to convince him that I am right for the job."

Phil paused for a second or two, trying to process exactly what Evelyn was trying to say. Eventually he managed to put his thoughts to words. "So, Tony Stark personally called and asked you to attend?"

"Uh."

"Evelyn, be honest."

Evelyn smiled weakly, "Yes."

Phil closed his eyes, world weary, "Honey…"

"Papa! I'm-"

"I know, I know, you're an adult. But I am worried that you and him are not thinking on the same level. I'm concerned that you're thinking this is business and he is thinking it is… social."

Evelyn blinked, "Like, what? He's asking me out?"

"Well… yes."

Evelyn considered it, "I don't… think he is. Is he?"

"I don't know," admitted Phil, "Evelyn, you are an adult. I'm not going to tell you how to live your life. _However,_ I am going to speak as a father for a little bit and I want you to be careful."

"I think I understand. But, Papa, this is my chance," she smiled, pleading, "Maybe my last chance."

"Alright," Phil sighed and shook his head, "Are you getting paid?"

"I think so… Mr. Stark wasn't especially clear about that."

"He's never clear about anything," grumbled Phil as he rolled his eyes, "I suppose we have to bug Maria again to help find us a dress for this."

"Oh God!" muttered Evelyn as she slapped a hand to her forehead, "I don't suppose I could just recycle some other dress for this?"

"I don't think so," said Phil as he opened the front door to go get dinner, "But it's okay. We'll talk to someone, Maria or Bobbi or whoever is in town. They'll give us a hand."

It ended up being Bobbi who took on the herculean task of making Evelyn took presentable for a society gathering. She led Evelyn into a little shop at the mall. Evelyn expected they were just going to Macy's to pick something out but Bobbi shook her head and sighed when she brought it up.

"Sweetie, if you are going to a party for Stark Industries, getting something from Macy's is going to make you stick out like a sore thumb. You need something a little bit more classy than that."

Evelyn scrunched up her face, "Is this gonna cost a lot?"

"Probably," admitted Bobbi as they walked into the mall. Seeing the slightly alarmed look on her face, Bobbi linked her arm with Evelyn's as they walked along. "I got this one. Your dad gave me a budget and stuff. Don't you worry about it."

"I can pay."

"I know," she waved a hand to dismiss her, "But this is special. And you need me."

Bobbi led her into a small shop wedged between Godiva chocolate and Zales diamonds. The walls and carpet were a yellowish white, partway between ivory and beige. The shelving was walnut, a dark hue with some lighter grains of mustard yellow and tan wandering through. The lights were bright, sparkling in the full length mirrors between units of shelving. Along these racks were dozens upon dozens of formal dresses in every color of the rainbow. Mannequin models with blank, empty faces modeled the summer fashions: pretty sundresses with bold sunflower print, long gowns in tiger lily orange, flowing cocktail dresses in pastel colors like peach, mint, and mauve, and little skirt-and-blouse combinations in denim and khaki with cute little pockets sewn onto the front.

"I think for you," Bobbi surveyed the racks and then looked back at her, "A-line. Yes. A-line is the dress for you. It is the dress for all occasions. It'll forgive Dorito benders, period bloating, just about anything."

Bobbi flit between the racks like a monkey between trees, pulling down a selection for her to try on. There were red dresses, black dresses, pink dresses, long skirts, short skirts, strapless dresses, dresses with sleeves, off the shoulder dresses, one sleeved dresses, tight dresses, billowy dresses, sequins, tulle, studs, and virtually every other color, texture, and style that she could find. Evelyn felt a little bit overwhelmed as she walked into the dressing room to try on the selection.

She started with something with a puffy sequined skirt that was every shade of the rainbow. Stepping out from behind the curtain, Bobbi burst out laughing.

"You look like a Care Bear pinata!"

Evelyn echoed her laughter,"Why did you even pick this one out?"

Bobbi's laughter lasted for several seconds before she devolved into coughing. When she resurfaced, her eyes were leaking with tears. She hacked out a few more strained chuckles before finding her voice again.

"For laughs, I guess," she wheezed, "I just wanted to see how it would look."

"Well, it looks awful!"

It was probably the most horrible dress out of the lot but there were some other bad ones in the mix: a itchy crocheted dress that Bobbi called "the rice pudding affair," something with a god-awful peacock applique that covered half her body, and a fluffy pink one that Bobbi described as "Cindy Lou Who." Evelyn swiftly moved those dresses over to the rack to be reshelved, along with a few that didn't look particularly promising. Bobbi may have thought they worked, but she was vetoing that suggestion.

Her eyes fell on a violet tea-length dress with one wide sleeve on the left side. It was pretty, with some golden ribbon to accent the waistline. She was intrigued. It was unique, but not too weird. She went ahead and tried it on and stepped out onto the floor to turn in the mirror.

"Oh," said Bobbi, smiling, "Yes. I like that on you."

"Purple is my favorite color," said Evelyn as she scrutinized the dress from all sides, "It looks good on."

"Yeah," nodded Bobbi, "And the off-the-shoulder look is very flattering on you."

Evelyn paused in the mirror for a moment, walking in circles around her. Each angle was examined for maximum appeal. The angle of the skirt, the texture of the fabric, the decorative gold ribbon; everything was taken into consideration.

"That is really a great dress. It's sexy." Evelyn paused in the mirror for a moment to really look at herself. Bobbi looked up, surprise in her eyes. "What?"

"I don't know if I… should be too sexy, you know?"

Bobbi raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"Is this appropriate?" she asked the older woman, "Going to a date with the boss?"

Bobbi looked back at her, eyebrows continuing to ascend in curiosity, "Is this a date?"

"Usually I figure if he pays, it's a date. My usual barometer doesn't quite work here," she shrugged, chuckling nervously, "So, I dunno what this is."

"You do realize this is the man who basically has an entire page of any given tabloid dedicated solely to him?" pointed out Bobbi.

That stopped Evelyn in her tracks for a moment. She hadn't really thought about the fact that more than technically Tony Stark was a celebrity. With that in mind, it just didn't make sense that Tony Stark would be paying any attention to her. He was powerful and rich. She was a college student. The imbalance of power could not (and arguably, should not) be ignored. It was probably just a phase, a little crush, she reasoned. He would give her attention for a little while and then disappear just as quickly as he appeared. She was a novelty, nothing more. It's not like she really had all that much to offer someone like Tony.

Bobbi adjusted the way the sleeve rested on her shoulder and sighed,"If you are okay with this being a date, then go for it. If not, then it's just something you are doing for your job. Just set the boundaries and go stick to them. Remember that it doesn't have to be anything that you don't want. Just because he's your boss, you don't owe him a damn thing."

Evelyn thought about it. She felt like she should want to have the attention of Tony Stark and enjoy the fact he was giving her attention. This was the sort of things that other girls would love, the sort of girls who fawned over his image in magazines, went on the fan websites, and cut out pictures to hang in their lockers. But she wasn't one of those girls.

"So," Bobbi pulled her out of her thoughts, "Is this the dress you want?"

"Yeah," she said, flaring the skirt out around her, "This is the one. And it's on sale so it is even better."

"It's a good choice. Looks fantastic on you," said Bobbi with a smile, "I always say, dress like today is the day you meet your worst enemy."

"If that's the case," Evelyn smiled, "I may need some shoes I can run in."

Bobbi shrugged a shoulder, "You're tall. You probably don't need super-high heels. But we can find some cute kitten heels or something to give you a bit of a hip swish. Actually, I might have a pair you can borrow."

"I'm size ten, though."

"Oh," Bobbi winced, "Yeah. My shoes aren't going to fit you, little Miss Amazon."

So they had to head down to the shoes at the local Macy's and try on a few different pairs before they found something that she could walk in without running the risk of twisting an ankle. She finally settled on a pair of small black heels which she actually liked. Maybe it wasn't the sort of thing she could wear everyday but if all high heels were like this, she could get used to it.

She took the dress and hung it in her room until the day of the event. Every morning she woke up, the dress was the first thing she saw. In some ways, she was very happy to have an excuse to dress up and look beautiful, but trepidation lingered in the pit of her stomach. She tried to push the twisty-turny feeling from her gut.

The day seemed to rush by. Evelyn couldn't remember a single detail of what happened that day. For her, the day started when Bobbi appeared on her doorstep to get her ready for the party. There was an intimidating bag full of all sorts of beauty implements: makeup, a flat iron, various bottles of product.

"Are you ready?" asked Bobbi with a smile.

"Sure," muttered Evelyn, feeling a bit intimidated. But Bobbi put a fond hand on her shoulder and smiled.

"Relax. It'll be fine. I'm gonna make you look like a princess!"

Bobbi started by combing her hair out and running a flat iron over it so it was perfectly straight. Her hair didn't curl much naturally but it had a little bit of a kink to it which created loose waves when she left it alone. Bobbi's diligence forced the coppery locks to behave. She then pulled all the hair to the side and bundled it into a side bun next to her right ear. It took a lot of work to get it in the proper place but Bobbi succeeded. The look was finished with a few gold hair pins topped with chips of light green crystal. The colors matched the green crystal earrings which Bobbi let her borrow.

As the zipper of the dress was finally fastened and the drape adjusted for her body, she felt truly pretty. But Bobbi insisted on sitting her down and making her up all the way.

"I think I look fine," she said.

"Just watch," insisted Bobbi, "If you don't like it, I'll take it off. But I get the feeling like you won't want that."

So, Evelyn decided to trust the older, wiser woman. She didn't wear makeup that often. It was mostly limited to special occasions, such as this. Working in a lab limited her fashion choices. There were too many horror stories of stray fumes causing rashes or bunsen burners igniting hairspray. She wasn't taking any chances. Bobbi offered to give her a hand so she would look nice for the party.

Her eyes were outlined with brown and dusted with green shadow. Bobbi was more precise than Evelyn. As opposed to smearing makeup wherever it seemed like it needed it, Bobbi carefully used a slanted brush to direct the glittery powder exactly where it needed to go.

"I wish I could do makeup as well as you do," sighed Evelyn when she looked in the mirror. Her face no longer her own. The stress blemishes and tired blue smears under her eyes were gone.

"It's not that hard," said Bobbi with a shrug, "I just always watched my mom and aunt do their makeup and I learned that way."

Suddenly, Evelyn felt like she had severely wasted an opportunity. She should have spent more time watching Kitty or Natasha do their makeup so she could be better at it. Heck, she should have asked one or the other of them to give her a hand and teach her. It just never seemed all that important.

"You have pretty eyes," said Bobbi in explanation, "So, you can wear lots of pretty colors for eye makeup, like golds and greens and violets. You could probably even do a rosy red or terra cotta or a mauve if you wanted to. That could work."

Bobbi outlined her lips in pinkish-brown and then filled in the rest. The look was completed with a swish of brown-black mascara. It brought out her natural coloring and blended well with her coppery hair. She looked like a different person, maybe the best version of herself or maybe someone completely different. Evelyn walked out of the bathroom so her father could see her off before she left.

"Honey, you look beautiful," smiled Phil as he hugged her.

"Thanks, Papa," she smiled, "Bobbi did a great job."

"I had a great girl to work on," acknowledged Bobbi, "You gotta have a good canvas to get started."

Phil smiled at his daughter, "I think she's perfect."

Evelyn sighed. "Papaaaaaaaa…"

Phil smiled, "Have fun, honey. Have a great night."

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Evelyn, "I'll be home by midnight."

"You're an adult. Just be safe. Come back when you're done."

Evelyn skipped off down the stairs to the waiting taxicab. Phil watched the car merge into traffic and disappear between the buildings as it made the trek across the river to Manhattan. Bobbi stood next to him, trying to read his face.

"Are you okay?"

"I still feel like I should have had her followed."

Bobbi rolled her eyes, "No! When she was a wee little kiddo, I could see it being necessary because you never knew if she was going to go nuclear. And she hasn't done anything like that in years."

"I'm not worried about her powers. I'm worried about-"

"I know," interrupted Bobbi, "You're scared to death of the big, bad world getting their hands on your daughter. But I stand by what I've been saying all this time, girls don't like their daddies getting into every part of their personal lives. You have to give her some space. Otherwise you make her into one of those super sheltered kids who don't know a bad situation when they see one. You gotta give her some room to get street smarts."

"You have a lot of strong opinions about this Bobbi," he said accusingly, "It makes me wonder what your point is."

"My point is, I was one of those people who were so innocent that they got themselves in trouble," she admitted, "And as happy as I am now, it was a rough road. So, I guess my point is I'm looking out for her too, Phil. We all are."

That did make Phil feel a little bit better. He knew she was a strong girl. She could take care of business if she needed to. He knew there were people to support them no matter what happened. But that didn't stop him from worrying.


	39. Pt 3 Ch 13: So You Think You Can Dance?

"Can I just say," said Tony with a smile, "That dress looks spectacular on you?"

"Uhm," Evelyn found his smile strangely infectious even though she had butterflies the size of humpback whales in her stomach, "Thank you. It was kind of you to say."

"Don't get me wrong, the dress is great on it's own but on you... it turns spectacular."

Was he flirting? Evelyn wasn't sure. Friendliness and flirtiness tended to blend together around Tony. It was true during work hours as much if not more so than during his free time. Business and pleasure didn't just mix, they were essentially the same thing swirled together. Evelyn had a brief mental image of chocolate swirl ice-cream in reference to that analogy but it flitted from her mind to be replaced by nervous laughter.

He smiled at her, "Shall we?"

The door of the limo opened and Tony bounded out, offering a hand to help her out. She accepted the hand he offered so she didn't catch the hem of her dress on the door or step on it with her own clumsy feet. Together, they stepped out onto a red carpet packed with paparazzi. It took a lot of blinking before her eyes corrected themselves. Tony seemed at ease, smiling and waving as he walked along. If he was nervous, he didn't show it. He walked with such confidence, she doubted he had ever been nervous in his entire life.

"Tony! Tony! Who's your date, Tony?"

Tony guided her over to one of the velvet ropes to where a wide-eyed girl with curly black hair was standing with a tiny audio recorder. A camera flash burst right in her eyes and she went blind for a second or two. Little black dots blotted out her vision. Her impulse was to rub her eyes but that would smear her makeup. The only alternative was to stand there, blinking and bleary until her vision corrected itself. She tuned back into what Tony was saying. He had to speak in an elevated voice in order to be heard over the red carpet clamor.

"-and we're really proud of it. So we're here to talk about how awesome it is. Spread the good word."

After a moment or two, they disentangled from the reporter and made their way along the scarlet path to the doors of the swanky Manhattan hotel. It was opulent, the most expensive place Evelyn ever set foot in, with black polished marble floors flecked with fallen gold and crystal stars in the sea of onyx black. Ivory columns, ripped straight from a Greek temple lined their path. The art deco furniture was black with gold and creamy white accents. The shiny gold tables were topped with highly polished glass. Geometric mirrors made the already large hall look massive, like a palace in a fairytale.

Music tinkled in the background from a sleek, black grand piano. The melody was faintly jazzy in a somewhat generic style which was inoffensive and just as easy to ignore as it was to listen to. She allowed herself to be led through the halls by Tony Stark and into the ballroom. He waved as he walked around and people let him pass without a word. Black suited security personnel with bluetooth earpieces nodded vaguely when Tony flashed a smile at them. Butlers, waiters, and other staff members bustled to and fro without giving them a second glance.

Two of these anonymous workers pushed open a pair of great black doors as they drew near and Tony guided her by the arm into the ballroom. If the entryway seemed like a snapshot from another time or place, the ballroom looked like a scene straight out of 'The Great Gatsby.' Golden chandeliers and frosted glass sconces illuminated the black and gold fan tiles separating the columned hall from the great glass dome. Nature provided the rest of the light. A crescent moon cast a pale glow upon the party and a thousand stars shimmered in the blackness. Thin strands of high summer clouds were the only blemish upon the perfect scene.

Dancers spun across the dark wood parquet floor front and center. The rest of the space featured lighter tiles flecked with shimmering particles that reflected the sparkle of the stars high above them. Tall cocktail tables with crisp white tablecloths surrounded the dance floor. Those not inclined to dance seemed to be congregating in this area.

All the women were incredibly glamorous, wearing super short colorful dresses on perfect, plasticine bodies. The men were all handsome in tailored suits and exquisite tuxedos. By comparison, Evelyn felt very plain, a stray merigold which managed to take root in the middle of a rose garden. Not so much even a marigold, she realized quickly, as a lowly ant passing through the garden on its way back to the anthill. She could only admire the beauty, without contributing any of her own.

Tony led her away from this area and toward the bar. It was a dark marble structure with tiles continuing the fan pattern on the walls. Plenty of mirrors lined the back wall with lights to show off the bottles on the shelves. She was sure they were all high quality. Only the best for the princes and princesses of Manhattan. Evelyn saw her own face draw near as they stepped up to the bar. She also noticed that Tony was looking at her. In a moment, she realized how mesmerized she had been by her surroundings and how terribly she had been ignoring her host.

He was roughly her height. She could look him in the eyes without craning her neck. The tuxedo was probably expensive. But she was no expert on expensive things. He wore a red silk tie with a gold monogrammed pin. The "S" was inscribed in a calligraphic script, polished to a high shine and sparkling in the amber light. Brown eyes considered her for a second and her wore his usual quirky smile.

"Do you want a drink?"

"I'm fine with just water," said Evelyn, feeling her insides twist like snakes.

"You are fine. I'm getting a martini. You sure you don't want anything?"

Evelyn blinked, unsure of exactly what happened. It sounded like Tony was trying to hit on her but it was buried just deep enough to cast a shadow of doubt, "I'm sure."

"Really? I find people are generally more fun when the wheels have been greased a bit."

"I'm fine without."

"I guess I can't deny that," said Tony as he turned quickly around to the bar to deliver his order. "Martini for me. Water for the lady. She's the designated driver."

"I suppose I am."

"You ever driven stick?"

"Once or twice," admitted Evelyn, remembering getting to drive Lola for the first time.

"Good, because if you grind the gears, I'm sending your cute ass back to the lab."

It was another one of those moments where she was having trouble figuring out if he was flirting or not. Practically everything he said was kind of in the gray area of being just flirty enough to register but not flirty enough to be sleezy. It was confusing.

"You sure?"

"I'm only twenty," she admitted, sheepishly, "Although I'll be twenty-one in about a month."

"It's okay, I won't tattle tell if you fudge a bit," he quipped in a low, mock undertone.

Apparently, nobody in Stark Industries really payed that much attention to the law since this was the second event where she had been offered (if not encouraged) to drink without being carded at all. As tempting as it was, she decided to dismiss it. She needed her wits about her. So she politely smiled, "Thanks, but no thanks."

"Your loss, sweetcheeks," he said, taking his own drink.

Evelyn picked up a glass of ice water adorned with a thin curl of lemon peel and they took a seat at a table with Tony. They had the spot to herself, surprisingly. She wasn't sure how many people were at the event, but she guessed about two hundred in all. It could have been a bit more or bit less because there were other people in the hotel beyond this room and counting the dancers proved to be tricky.

"So, tell me a little bit about pulse energy therapy," he said conversationally as they took their seats.

Evelyn looked surprised, "You actually read it?"

"Yeah, duh," said Tony, taking a sip of his drink, "I'm interested in what people are doing in the company, what kind of innovations are coming down the pipe. There's some good work there. Like yours."

"Well, if you've read it, then you know my theory."

"All that from working with the arc reactor for a year?"

Evelyn immediately nodded in affirmation. He didn't need to know the truth. "It has a lot of practical applications. I just found one. It doesn't even have to be the arc reactor. Ideally, the technology could be adapted into a handheld application for emergency services."

"Would it have enough power without the arc reactor?"

"It's all just theory right now."

"Humor me."

Evelyn shrugged, running the math in her head, "It does require a good deal of energy to power. The arc reactor is ideal to ensure it can be consistent. However, battery technology is improving all the time, thanks to cellphones and laptops. We could get to a point in the future where batteries become more efficient. But that is some time out."

"You ever thought about actually building it?" he asked, taking a sip of his martini.

"Of course I've thought about it," Evelyn took a deep breath and spoke, "I, uh, actually put in a transfer to medical resources but it was turned down. I was hoping to get the job so I could start working on this project."

"Hm," said Tony.

His short response was peculiar. He had been very chatty up to this point so the fact he chose to say nothing was particularly poignant. Evelyn took a sip of water to clear her thoughts. She was planning to start to explain exactly why she would be best suited for the job when Tony interrupted her thoughts.

"Have you ever considered doing R&D instead?" he suggested, "Because, honestly, medical resources isn't a very well funded area. Not a lot of upward mobility in that area unless all you are looking for is to get something medical related on your resume."

"Well," she hesitated, "If I worked in R&D, would I have a better chance of getting to work on my project than I would in medical resources?"

Tony took a drink again, "Probably. You have to work the hierarchy there, like anywhere."

"I have some experience in the lab," she offered, "During the school year, I worked at the school research lab. Would that help?"

"Maybe a bit," he admitted, "Honestly, until you got a real foothold in the company, I can't promise you would be able to work on it but it would put you on a good track to get started."

Evelyn swallowed nervously. She had already worked so hard and put in a lot of hours to be able to move up and actually start working on her projects. Now she was just being bounced around departments and never getting an opportunity to actually work on her own stuff. It was about time she started pushing harder.

"So, how long would I be working under someone until I get to work on my own thing?"

"Depends," he evaded.

"On what?" she pushed.

"Lots of things," he said, twisting the stem of the martini glass between his thumb and forefinger, "Most notably the political climate. We have a lot of government contracts. We get paid to help them build weapons. It's what we do. It's what most of the budget goes. If you can create something that makes a bigger profit than what we are currently doing, heck, you could move up tomorrow."

Evelyn frowned. Once again, money was rearing up its ugly head and making it difficult to fund her ideas. All the theories and all the hard work in the world couldn't change anything.

"At the end of the day, everything has to go through the budget people. And the budget people have funny little brains that tend to think more in terms of money going out and money coming in. If you have a project that costs a lot of money, there better be a return on investment or they're going decide it isn't worth funding. Sounds harsh, but it's true."

Evelyn sighed again. It felt like the billionth time that evening. Of course, she wasn't stupid enough _not_ to know that Stark Industries was there to make money and make people rich. But all the talk about changing world and doing good for others (all that stuff that she signed up to do) was starting to ring slightly hollow. Not quite venturing into the hypocritical but veering dangerously close to that line.

"I'm willing to work on other projects if it means I'll get to move this forward," she bit her lip for a second and decided to speak her mind a little bit. "It's _important_ to me. I've known of a couple of kids who have had it rough with illness and things. They weren't able to just go out and be little kids and enjoy their lives. If I can stop that from happening to another child, even just one, it will be worth it. So, yeah, I'll put up with working on other things if it ends with kids getting their lives back."

Tony stared at her for a long second. Brown eyes surveyed her up and down. "You're dead serious about this, aren't you?"

"Oh yeah."

He smiled a bit but it dissolved quickly, "You would work with weapons development if it meant saving a life later on?"

"But," she piped up, "Isn't the point of research to find things which may make you money later? I mean, we're at war now in the Middle East and stuff but what happens when we're not? Are you still going to be making weapons for a war that doesn't exist? And are you going to start working on something new now in preparation of that eventuality or are you going to wait to start R&D at the last second. How would the money people feel about that when you aren't making profits and dumping money into R&D to find a solution?"

Tony looked up from his martini and smiled, "You're clever."

"It happens sometimes."

He smiled again. He was doing that a lot. "I happen to agree with you. Weapons are useful for a purpose. There is a specific reason that they exist and that is to maintain the status quo. Make things stable so we can live our lives in... relative peace."

Evelyn nodded slowly, "I sense a 'but' coming up."

"But they're boring," nodded Tony, "Look, you can build something that blows up. You can build a lot of things that are very good at blowing things up. The problem is... where is the creativity in that? Where is the good in that? Where is the innovation? Look, any moron can build a weapon. Look at Justin Hammer."

Evelyn snickered at that. She was well aware of the rivalry between Hammer and Stark. It took over the tabloids on a fairly regular basis. There were also occasional jokes on the matter which made their way to the water cooler at work. People around Stark Industries took every opportunity he could to take a cheap shot at Justin Hammer. Admittedly, it was a pretty funny one. Tony's eyes glowed like a kid in a candy shop as he continued.

"The man has no sense of forward motion. I like to think as an optimist. It's like you said. Maybe we need weapons in this day and age but let's look ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred, for argument's sake let's take a look a thousand years into in the future. What is going to be our problems then?"

Evelyn wasn't sure if the question was rhetorical or not so she just shrugged, "Hard to tell."

"Okay, I'll grant you that. But let's think of something just for the sake of making an argument... depleting natural resources. You know, fossil fuels are made out of dead dinos? There were only so many dinosaurs on the earth. Ergo, there is a set amount of fossil fuels that we have at our disposal."

"Stands to reason."

"Of course it does. Even if we drill, drill, drill in the arctic, the oil sands, the Middle East, all the usual what-have-yous, it will eventually tap out. What then?"

"Then we need something else."

"Something that will last, not something that will tap out just as fast as the oil did. And that," he pointed over to Evelyn, "Is why your job is so important."

"The arc reactor," she said, nodding slowly.

"Exactly. This is why I think this promising. Look, I didn't get the title 'visionary' because it sounds cool. Even though, you know, it does."

"If my orientation training told me the truth," said Evelyn, trying her own hand at being witty, "It was June 2003 Popular Mechanics that first called you 'visionary' and everyone else picked it up from there."

"It was July, but that is still impressive."

There was a long pause between the two of them. Evelyn mulled over the icy glass of water in front of her, running the rind of the lemon peel between her fingers nervously. She tried to appear put together, but it was not quite working. She was scared. Scared of this. Scared of the implications.

"Look, I'll put my cards on the table with you," said Tony, turning over to her and setting his drink on the table, "The board of directors, me being among them, is interested in doing some strategic hiring in terms of research. The arc reactor proved that we can expand and be successful. Slowly, very slowly because the old farts want to make sure they feel like they're getting their money's worth. But it won't always be that way. When that happens, I want Stark Industries to be on the front lines."

Evelyn felt a little bit breathless. If this was leading up the way she thought it would, it was going to be a great situation for her.

"So, Mr. Stark-"

"Tony, please."

"Okay... Tony. What does this mean? Why are you telling me this?"

"You have optimism. Visionary thinking. That's something special and we need that here. And we're going to be hiring for some new positions within R&D very soon. If you are interested, your name can move to the top of the list. I also personally denied your transfers to our medical division to make sure you would be available."

"I... I..." she stammered, shocked at what she was hearing, "I don't know what to say."

"Ah, well," smiled Tony, downing the last of his drink, "That's what I get for mixing business and pleasure."

Evelyn felt herself fluttering a bit. So much was happening, her head hurt. Everything seemed incredibly out of whack. She took a deep drink of ice-cold water but it did little to calm her nerves. She felt just as giddy and freaked out as before.

"Do you dance?"

"Rarely," admitted Evelyn, "and not very well."

"You know, the best dancers usually have the best partners," said Tony his thumb along the edge of the martini glass, "It's just a matter of being good at following and having someone good at leading on hand."

Evelyn paused for a long moment, trying to process exactly what Tony was trying to say. It sounded like it was trying to make an innuendo but once again it was just vague enough that she wasn't sure. Maybe it wasn't an innuendo at all, she was just expecting one.

"It's a foxtrot, think you can handle it?"

"Not so sure about that," admitted Evelyn with a little bit of a frown. She had never danced before, not like ballroom dancing. She had done the Macarena and that was just about it.

"It's just slow-slow quick-quick. It's really hard to mess up."

"I guess… okay."

Tony offered a hand. She took it . Her hands had to be absolutely dripping with sweat. She wanted gloves or anything else to help dab away the annoyingly persistent perspiration. At least Tony didn't seem to be saying anything about it. Small relief. It occurred to her that it might not be all that bad of an idea to give him a reason to put some distance between them.

His hand rested on her waist, cupping the curve of her ribcage. It wasn't until she was standing so close to him that she realized Tony wasn't quite as tall as she thought he was. Perhaps, though, she was just tall for a lady and wearing heels. Trying to make the distinction was too confusing so she dismissed it. Her hand easily rested on his shoulder, right along the line of the shoulder muscle. It was shockingly well-defined under his expensive suit.

With a gentle spin, she was thrown into the spin of the dance floor. Somewhere far away, the orchestra started to strike up a slow jazz number. The foxtrot was rather slow but it still made her feel a bit dizzy and confused. Her feet were unsteady, barely following the pattern of the foxtrot. With a little hope, none of the socialites would notice her inept feet limping along to the warbling saxophone solo. The melody lingered in her head. It was almost as if she had heard it at some point in time but couldn't remember exactly where or what the situation was.

"I apologize," she said, "In advance for stepping on your toes."

"You'll do fine. I don't care much for these shoes anyway."

She chuckled a little, "Is it alright if I talk?"

"Yeah, totally, this music is putting me to sleep."

"But you wanted to dance."

"I was hoping to tango," he said, stepping between her feet and leaning forward a touch. He was close enough that she could smell his piney cologne everywhere. She felt numb for a second until he leaned back and everything returned to as it was before. His hand was strong against the bare skin against her shoulder blade. Vaguely she wondered what possessed her to wear a dress that was off the shoulder but in fairness she didn't think anyone was going to touch her.

It didn't take long to sort of get the swing of things. Maybe there was something to be said for Tony's advice about needing a good lead. She didn't quite feel like saying anything after Tony swooped in close. Most of the dance was silent save for the gentle music.

Which was _ungodly_ awkward.

"Let's get outta here," he said.

Evelyn blinked once and then looked over at him. He was smiling a bit at her and she was having a hard time deciphering exactly what that smile meant. There was interest in those dark eyes but she felt a bit scared by it too.

"You and I can go and get something to drink and talk science and things. I've reserved the lounge for an after party. But nobody is in there now. We can head on over and talk science some more."

Vaguely Evelyn wondered why a party needed an after party. It was a party inside a party and that was not really needed, was it? Maybe if you were rich, the party never ended. You could dance and swill martinis in posh hotels until you got bored or too drunk to function.

"Don't we need to stick around for the concert?"

"Do you really want to hear another wannabe Tony Bennett sing songs from fifty years ago?"

Honestly, Evelyn had a soft spot for the oldies. But part of her was curious what Tony wanted to talk about. They had done a lot of talking already. "Um…"

"We can start chatting about your soon-to-be new job. Have you ever actually been to the R&D labs?"

"...no."

Tony smirked, "You'll love it. Lots of toys."

"I, uh, need to use the restroom real quick," she said, needing a break to catch her breath and sort out her brain.

"Alrighty. Meet you there?"

"Sure, sure," she said quickly, "Where is it?"

"Go back to the main hall. Take a left. First door on the right. Can't miss it."

He was right. It hasn't terribly difficult to find the bathroom. A giant gold door and a very clear sign labeled the ladies lavatory. The bathroom had crisp, clean marble floors and shiny white subway tiles on the walls. Girls preened in front of tall, black framed mirrors. The sinks looked like hammered gold bowls with cast iron fixtures. She slipped into a stall to take care of business and hide for a second or two. She needed to gather her wits.

First of all, she found herself more than a little annoyed that this was why her transfer was denied. She had been stressing out about it and feeling like an utter failure for the past several days and it ended up being for really nothing that serious? She wanted to be relieved and happy but couldn't shake a lingering tension.

Second of all…

...holy shit.

 _Holy shit!_

She was elated. Research and development was a better proposal than she was expecting. The lack of direction regarding the projects she would be working on somewhat bothered her. Tony wanted everything for an eventuality but she had to bring herself back down to earth. She may get to work on the pulse therapy eventually but what about in the interim? Tony made a fair point, they were a weapons company. Any proposal outside of that department would be sent to the back of the line. She couldn't help but shake the feeling that her pulse therapy could very easily become weaponized. _She_ could very easily become weaponized, for that matter.

She thought of the burn she gave Rumlow all those years ago, a nasty red smear of inflammation across his flesh with left the acrid stench of burnt hair in its wake. That was the worst injury she had ever inflicted upon another human being. However, if she could melt metal, she could do far worse than a slight epidermal burn if she ever put her mind to it.

It conjured up the urban legend about Tesla's death ray. Nobody knew if he actually built the thing but some suspected he did. One theory postulated that his death ray was the cause of the Tunguska explosion, although that seemed really far fetched. It was said he recognized the power of his invention and dismantled it before it fell in the wrong hands.

Evelyn didn't believe the story. But the message of the morality tale did not go ignored. It was the story later shared by Einstein and Oppenheimer. Once Pandora's box was opened, there would be no way to stuff the horrors back in.

She flushed the toilet.

There were more questions now, but at least she had a chance to think about things. She washed her hands and checked her face in the mirror. It's not like she knew how to fix her makeup but if something was smeared, she could wipe it away so it didn't draw attention. Everything seemed in place and she took a deep breath, smiling finally. She was getting what she wanted.

As she turned for the door, something clicked suddenly in her head. A question. But it was an odd question and one that she didn't have a proper answer for nor could she categorize it into any of her previous thoughts. It was so strange she had to stop for a second and take a step back.

 _What are you doing here? What EXACTLY are you doing here?_

Come to think of it, it did seem really strange that Tony Stark would invite her to this large event for what was essentially a job interview. Granted, she was new to the world of employment and maybe Stark Industries just had some strange hiring practices But that didn't seem quite right either.

Suddenly, she had a new purpose upon which all others paled.

It was easy enough to find the lounge. A directory at the elevators informed her it was on the twelfth floor. Sitting atop the doorframe was a bas-relief depiction of the goddess Artemis, bow drawn and the arrow point sharp like a warning. There wasn't a single person anywhere around and some part of Evelyn suggested she start pulling at her hair to leave DNA around. She pushed open the door and stepped into the lounge

The lights were dim to highlight the view of the city. And, as much as Evelyn hated heights, she did have to admit that the view of the city with all the spires and parapets was spectacular. Panoramic windows provided a one hundred eighty degree view of the city with all the lights and sparkle.

Long chaise lounges dotted the lounge floor, surrounding glass tables and topped with deep cozy pillows. It was a more intimate, private space. The colors were more muted, soft grays and rich blues. Tony was standing behind a bar made of creamy colored marble. He smiled when he saw her and held up a bottle to show her.

"Champagne, madam?" he smiled. It was a smirking, self-assured grin which quirked up one side of his face higher than the other.

"Where did you get that?" she asked as he pulled two champagne flutes out of somewhere.

"I own the place," he said simply, unwrapping the cork on the bottle. He popped the cork with practiced ease. This probably wasn't his first time bringing champagne to a lady, if the tabloids were to be believed. She never had champagne before but it seemed exciting. For sure this was good stuff too. Cheap alcohol was not likely to grace the parties of Stark Industries.

"What should we drink to?"

"I dunno," she said, feeling surprisingly shy, "I'm still not twenty-one."

"Consider it a victory toast to your new job." he said grinning as he handed her the glass.

She was intensely curious and perhaps that was why she accepted it. The flute was tall and with a diamond pattern etched along the sides. She watched the perfect, crystal clear bubbles rise to the surface and pop into tiny sparkling cascades.

"To the future," said Tony, raising his glass to toast hers, "And the bright people who will lead us there."

She sipped the sun gold drink. It felt like stars dancing across her tongue, crisp and dry, with a slight flourish of minerals. She considered it and decided she liked it well enough. It was better than her prior experience with alcohol.

Tony's eyes raked over her, as though trying to gauge Evelyn's reaction. She could physically feel his gaze picking out all the features of her face. He was handsome enough, with complicated eyes. His irises were several shades of brown blended together. The line of his beard was neat and there was a cleanliness about him. Although, that might be Miss Pott's doing. His hair, in contrast, was a tousled mess of charm and styling product. That was definitely not Miss Pott's doing. His mouth was always turned up into a smirk which threw his face out of balance. Overall, he was a man of contrasts and contradictions. While this was intriguing, she couldn't dismiss her growing feeling of unease.

"Why am I here?"

He blinked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you invite all your new hires to large events like this? Or am I special?"

He looked away for a second, chuckled in a low tone, and looked back with a sheepish grin. "Caught me."

"Caught you?" Evelyn reeled back, trying to process exactly what was going on. A chill ran down her spine.

She was totally alone with him. Maybe his intentions were innocent enough but a voice in the back of her head, grabbed her and screamed in warning. But there was nothing she could do at this time other than see this thing through to the end.

"You are really an attractive young lady, you know?"

"What?" The word caught in her throat awkwardly as she gawked, almost like swallowing an ice cube by accident. She tried to figure out if she actually heard what she heard or if it was something completely different.

"You're smart. You're adorable. Frankly, it is astounding that you don't have a boyfriend who is jealous right now."

"Uh, ha...well...no," she stammered, not sure exactly what to say. What was there to say? Her wit seemed to be completely tapped out. "Not right now."

"But there was?"

Evelyn bit her lip and tasted the wax of her lipstick, "Was. But it didn't work."

How on earth did they get on this subject? She didn't want to talk about this. Thinking of Evan still made her feel a little angry, especially considering the fact that Stark very nearly hired him.

"Well, someone needs to keep an eye on you."

"Uh."

"And it helps that I have a thing for redheads."

"Uh... uhm... uh..."

Tony was standing way too close to her. Evelyn could practically taste the alcohol on his breath and feel the heat of his neck. The hair on the back of her neck was standing straight up at attention. She strongly considered pushing him away and leaving.

"I don't know about this," she said quietly, turning so she didn't have to face him.

"Are you saying that because I'm your boss?" asked Tony, leaning back to look her properly in the eyes, "I mean, and the way it looks with employer-employee relations and all that. A bit taboo, maybe.

Tony's hand was on her cheek, turning her neck gently so she would face him. His hand felt dry and warm, like the height of summer. His breath was warm against her face. Evelyn's heart pounded against her chest and made her feel a bit sick. She couldn't break away, not without breaking his arm or something worse.

"I don't think it's right to…"

"Do you really think that?" he breathed across her cheek.

It suddenly became painfully obvious that Tony was going to kiss her. He might do more but the kiss was eminent. As soon as this realization came to her, Tony's scruffy beard scratched against her cheek, tickling her. She felt torn because the fiery part of her heart which urged her forward and her brain which tugged on the reins and ordered her to stop.

"I don't know," she whispered before his mouth covered hers and stopped any more words from coming out.

His lips tasted like booze but also like mint and chocolate. His lips were a bit chapped, except for the softness just inside his mouth as his lips parted. With that simple gesture, she was lost to the sensation of soft, gentle pleasure.

Evelyn felt something against the side of her breast. It was just a little brush, so slight that she may well have gone without realizing it had she not been trembling under his grasp already from the potency of the kiss. The slight motion knocked the strap of her dress farther off her shoulder. Tony's hands were large and wide, it could have been a simple and easy accident. Blinking, confused, lost and tired, Evelyn found herself giving it a pass in exchange for Tony's hands to continue resting across her shoulder blades, as he did when they danced.

She was barely aware of his hand leaving her back. He possessed the completely unique ability of leaving her breathless and dizzy. Evan never did that. He never made her feel out of her mind. She never felt warm when she was held. The beast in her chest, long dormant, roared like a lion. There were a dozen feelings she never felt before, beginning with fluttering nervousness that they would be discovered and ending with a sinking feeling in her stomach akin to guilt.

His hand stroked along the side of her body along to the small of her back where his fingers seemed to be exploring every individual vertebrae and locating the most sensitive points for exploitation. He took her lip between his, sucking until it almost hurt. Teeth introduced themselves softly to her lips, threatening to press further but never actually doing so. With each touch, the lion inside her was tamed into a kitten that purred in her chest with contentment. She let out a humiliating whimper as he dug in a bit deeper. She was practically being supported by him because her knees just about stopped working.

His hand, which had been strangely absent for a few moments now, reintroduced itself to her waist. It slid down to her hips, resting right at the top of her hip bone. It was getting a little bit too low and then squeezed. She trembled and yelped.

"Tony!"

"It's alright," he assured her, still massaging her hip, inching lower, "Don't worry."

The warm, fluffy feeling that permeated her chest was drained in a moment. The lion bared its fangs and felt the need to bolt internally as Evelyn squirmed from his grasp, pushing him away with one hand until he was at arm's length. She blinked for a moment, seeing her lipstick smeared across his face. Without another word, she ran. Her feet protested from the stress of running in heels but she knew she couldn't stop running. If she stopped, she would have to answer to Tony regarding what happened. It was only when she reached the elevator that she finally felt she could take a deep breath and sink to the floor, knees as weak as Jell-O.

Her breath came in short gasps as she tried to calm her frazzled nerves. Her lipstick was definitely smudged. But her eyes were starting to well up. She was crying, although she didn't understand why. She wasn't sad, but she was something.

Something.

The elevator dinged.

She was pulled from her thoughts. The doors opened and she had to stand and try to look presentable. Her eyes burned but she blinked back the tears she knew were going to arrive. Fortunately, the parade of paparazzi had gone, likely retreated into the bushes and alleyways so as she made her way out the front doors and into the night. They didn't pay attention to her anyway. She was a nobody.

The cab was right there and she walked to it. The driver was a larger lady with dark skin and tight, curls pulled back into a white bandanna. She wore large red glasses and shiny gold hoop earrings.

"Where to, sweetie?" she said in a thick accent. It may have been Spanish but Evelyn was too shaky to analyze it.

"Uh, Brooklyn," she muttered, giving the exact address.

"I used to live out that way," she commented and began chatting to fill the empty space. The small talk dissolved into static. A sudden chill descended across her skin, freezing into a rime of ice. She could feel individual hairs pulling into goosebumps. Her body trembled, partly out of cold but also out of a twisty feeling in her stomach that she couldn't discern.

"Sweetheart?" the taxi driver adjusted the rearview mirror to look at her, "Do you need me ta call someone for ya?"

Evelyn looked up with tear flooded eyes, "No. No. I'm fine. I'm almost home."

Honestly, at this point, she wouldn't care if she had to run all the way home. She would if she had to. She wanted home, bed, pajamas…. maybe a shower worked in there somewhere. _Probably_ a shower, actually, because she felt dirty. Not in the sense that she physically had dirt on her body. But in a sense that some part of her had been stained and it would take time to scrub it away.

"You sure you're okay, hun?"

Evelyn was quiet for a long second before speaking up, "No. But, I will. Eventually. Maybe. I dunno."

"You _sure_ you don't need me ta call someone? The cops? Family? There's a payphone just up ahead."

"I don't need it, thanks," she muttered, "My… my dad is at home."

"Alright, sweetie, if you say so," she said, turning the wheel so that they worked their way off the bridge and into the side streets. Fortunately, it was only a few more minutes until they were home. Evelyn paid her fare and stood in front of the apartment block.

Her feet hurt. She walked inside and took off her shoes, walking on bare toes to her home. The apartment was quiet. The master bedroom door was closed, signalling that Phil was asleep. Part of her wanted to wake him and talk but, no, not tonight. She would let him sleep and talk in the morning. Nothing was so pressing it couldn't wait just a little while.

She couldn't remember climbing into bed but apparently she did because she woke up feeling really awful. Her head hurt and face felt taunt. The pain was focused around her eyes, where her makeup was concentrated. She didn't take off her makeup the night before and apparently that was a bad thing because it was a mess. It turned out mascara was a real pain to scrub off her face without the proper remover.

"How was it?" asked Phil in the morning over breakfast.

"Uh, well," muttered Evelyn as she sat down, fresh from the shower, "Fine. Uh, fine."

Phil looked up. Evelyn pointedly avoided his gaze.

"Sweetie?"

"I just…" Evelyn fidgeted reaching for her hair, she opted to tell a little half truth, "I felt really out of place there. Lots of people and not much going on. And I'm an awful dancer."

"Well, you never have to do that again," commented Phil, "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"I know," she muttered as she started to braid her red strands. Those words were almost too applicable. She felt like her father was staring right through her.

He gave her a funny look before speaking again. "I hope you do. I can't help but feel like I've pushed you too hard."

Evelyn looked up as she finished with her hair, confused. "What brought that up?"

Phil wiped his hands on a dishcloth and sighed, "Lots of things."

" _Like_ …?"

"Like I know Nick is going to be asking you about SHIELD again. He left a message for you while you were out. He wants to have lunch sometime and talk shop. Don't be surprised if he tries to recruit you."

Phil placed a plate in front of her with scrambled eggs and bacon. He got to work fixing a second batch, as she would clean this up in a minute.

"I did tell him we would talk about it again after I graduated," sighed Evelyn, "Actually, I am surprised he took this long to talk to me about it."

"In fairness, you have a job and keep busy. Maybe he thought it was a bad time to talk about it."

Evelyn shrugged noncommittally. Her chest felt tight and she needed to alleviate it. "Dad, I have a question."

"Shoot," said Phil as he cracked eggs into the pan on the stove. The whites sizzled and bubbled.

"What if you have the chance to follow your dream and do the thing you've decided you want to do, but in order to get there you have to do something you _really_ don't want to?"

Phil paused, turned off the gas cook top and turned to look at his daughter.

"What brought this on?"

"Well, I have a chance to work R&D in Stark but I'm not likely to be able to work on my own project for some time. Mr. Stark seemed to indicate I would be on a weapons project and… I don't like weapons. I'm a doctor and a builder, not really much of a fighter."

She left out the part about what happened after that. He didn't need to know. And part of her felt shame pushing against her shoulders and squeezing her heart. A nasty voice in the back of her head whispered what a horrible thing she did and berated her for enjoying it at all. Another voice, a soothing one, tried to relieve the dark cloud by telling her she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was a word to describe what was going on in her head but her vocabulary did not stretch that far. Someday, she may talk about it but… not now.

Phil sighed and stirred the eggs so they wouldn't burn. "I've always made it a point not to tell you how to live your life, you know that. But I do think it is important to live your life with honesty and integrity so whatever you choose, make sure it is the path which allows you to be true to who you are. If working with weapons makes you uncomfortable or you feel like you are compromising yourself, then it may not be the right path."

"But then I'm stuck as an intern," countered Evelyn, "And I'm certainly not going to be able to build what I have in mind working on the arc reactor team."

She felt bad about saying that, but it was true. As much as she liked Will and Jay, she was quickly outgrowing the subterranean lab, much like a plant became rootbound in its pot.

"Maybe," suggested Phil, "It is time for you to move beyond Stark Industries. You have a good resume and lots of experience. There is enough for you to gain a foothold. You can survive on your own."

The idea was a bit scary. She had become comfortable in her space. The routine of her day was established and she didn't fancy breaking it. However, truth rang through his words. Stark Industries was only ever intended to be one piece of a larger picture of her life. That was the idea going in.

"Maybe you're right," she muttered. An idea caused her to sit up bolt upright. "Maybe I will talk to Nick about SHIELD."

Phil lifted long strips of bacon out of the package and into the pan. "Talk to him. But don't let him pressure you."

Evelyn wasn't about to make _that_ mistake again.

The call for Nick had to wait because Kitty returned her call first. The two chatted at least twice a week and gave each other full updates. So she knew about the party.

"What was it like? I am _dying_ to know!"

"I'm pretty sure I saw Brad Pitt," admitted Evelyn, "And someone who looked uncannily like Nicholas Cage."

"Lucky," grumbled Kitty, "You have all the luck."

"Yeah, a night with Brad Pitt, Nick Cage, and Tony Stark. I really am a lucky girl," grumbled Evelyn.

"Hey... what's going on?"

"What?"

"It's not like you to be this... mellow. Especially after something like this."

"It's nothing."

"Tell me."

Evelyn sat in silence for a long moment, listening to a buzz on the other side of the phone, looking around her room and remembering the events from last night. Her lips still burned slightly with the feeling of Tony's lips. If she closed her eyes for a moment, she could taste the sweetness of his mouth against hers. If she ran her tongue across her lips, she could feel the slight burn of alcohol. If she lingered on the sensation, it was almost like he was there in the back of her mind with the thoughts of what could have happened.

"Evey? You there?"

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

"He kissed me," she surprised herself by blurting it out.

"Who?"

"Tony... uh, um, Mr. Stark."

It was Kitty's turn to be quiet on the other side of the line for a long, pregnant moment. Disbelief appeared to be mutual on both sides of the line, as gauged by the buzzing static.

"Shut. Up." she said softly, "Stark. Tony Stark kissed you?"

"Yeah."

She was silent for another moment, "With tongue?"

"Kitty!"

"I'm just asking!"

Evelyn groaned and planted a hand against her forehead, "A... a... a little."

"Holy shit."

"No kidding."

"So, uh, are you two a thing or something?"

"No! Definitely not," she insisted, "Not at all."

"Evey?"

"What?"

"You don't seem happy about this. Like, at all."

She paused. Then she decided to speak, "I'm really not."

"So what happened?"

"Well, we were talking about R&D and then he was offering me a job. And then… I dunno. Then he was kissing me, I guess."

"That sounds a little bit like… sexual harassment or something. Extortion. Whatever."

"It's not like that!"

"Evey, from what you are telling me it kind of is. It kind of sounds like the job came with the expectation of, you know, an _exchange_."

Evelyn found herself stewing in her own sweat. Now she felt awful for thinking any part of this was pleasant at all.

"I don't know for sure if he was malicious. I think maybe…" she sighed, "We talked a lot beforehand and he seemed genuine about caring about the research department and building it up. Maybe he really liked me or maybe not. I can't tell."

Kitty was silent on the other end of the line, "Are you gonna take the job?"

"That _is_ the question," sighed Evelyn, "I don't… think so. Ignoring the situation in general being uncomfortable, I don't want to work with weapons. So, no, I don't think so."

"Good."

"But now I'm back to square one and I have no plan," she lay back on the bed, "I miss being at the X-mansion. Everything was just nicer. Simpler."

"Yeah, back in the good old days when we were awkward middle schoolers in totally over our head, dealing with adult problems before we totally understood it and trying to stay afloat all the while," said Kitty sarcastically, "I hear what you're saying, but I don't miss it."

"I don't either, I'm happy where I am," said Evelyn, "But it was easier when the craziest thing I had to handle was Jean and Scott fighting."

"You will be happy to know that some things never change," grumbled Kitty. Although Evelyn couldn't see her friend's face, she was sure Kitty was rolling her eyes.

She tried to remember that levity as she walked into work on Monday morning. She had a heavy heart but determination in her bones. Instead of hitting the elevator button for the basement, she hit the button to the administration floor. There was a meeting which needed to happen.

The ride upwards felt like it lasted a century. Never before had she been so consciously aware of the passage of time. Ordinarily, the height would be making her feel nervousness in the pit of her gut. Today, she had reason to be anxious beyond her phobia.

Finally, she bell dinged and she stepped out onto the administration floor. Her feet, more than her head, guided her toward Miss Pott's office. She took a deep breath and walked in.

"Miss Potts? May I trouble you a moment?"

Pepper Potts looked up from the sleek laptop and gestured for her to take a seat. There were two chairs in front of her desk, both were red ergonomic things which were not as comfortable as you might think.

"I was surprised about your e-mail for a meeting," noted Miss Potts, "You were vague about the subject."

"Yes, um, I…"

She stuttered and then took a deep breath. The words sat on the tip of her tongue, they only needed the opening to slip out.

"Miss Potts, I'm resigning from my position," said Evelyn, feeling air rush out of her lungs and take a wave of tension with it, "I… I can't… this is my two week notice."

Silence fell across Pepper's little office. Evelyn held her breath. She felt like she was standing in court for all the pressure she was under.

"Why are you quitting, if I may ask?"

"I…" Evelyn didn't really expect to explain this, "I… I am a little bit… I can't…"

Pepper looked up. Her eyes were soft gray-blue and not nearly as sharp or intimidating as Evelyn feared. "You don't have to say."

Evelyn took a deep breath, "Thank you."

Pepper sighed and started shifting papers around, "Do you know where you are going after this?"

"I legitimately don't. I'm just… I need to be somewhere else. Anywhere…" She was babbling. Pulling herself together, she tried again. "I have a lead. Maybe to do some research."

Pepper's eyes looked almost pitying. Evelyn felt equal parts relief and annoyance. Although she was grateful Miss Potts wasn't grilling her about her experience and allowing her to speak uninterrupted, she couldn't appreciate the latent sense of condescension.

"If you are still interested in medical research, we have a few alumni in the field," she explained softly, "If it would help, I can give you their contact information to get you started."

Relief settled in fully. Evelyn almost felt bad about assuming she was being talked down to. She made a lot of assumptions about Miss Potts and none of them were very fair. She was far more sympathetic and kind than Evelyn previously gave her credit only disappointment was that it only came to light as she was leaving.

"I appreciate it. Thanks."

"Feel free to call if you need," offered Miss Potts, handing her a business card, "If you need work records or anything to get started."

"Thank you" she said again, legs wobbling as she stood. Her heart was bouncing around like a rabbit. She felt free.

"Will is going to miss you," noted Pepper, "You are his favorite person down there."

"I'll miss everyone too," said Evelyn politely.

She tucked the paper into her pocket and made her way downstairs. She felt tired. But in a good way. It was the variety of tired which settled in after running a great distance or accomplishing something which took a great deal of effort. It was the variety of tired which demanded a rest to recover from the exertion. But there would be no rest. She had another meeting after she finished her goodbyes.

All her things in her locker fit into her backpack.

"You're really leaving." muttered Will as he helped her pack things up.

"Yup."

"Not surprised," he admitted, "I mean, when I heard you weren't moving up to medical, I figured you would start looking around. I'm just surprised it happened so fast."

Evelyn closed her locker and shut her bag, sighing all the while, "I… am investigating an opportunity. If I decide to accept this position, I might be able to work on my own research quicker.

"Shoot. That's what we all dream of," shrugged Will with a grin, "I'm proud of you. You're moving on up!"

Evelyn closed her locker and sighed, "Tell Jay I said goodbye and that I'll miss him. Miss everyone."

"I will as soon as he gets back from Chicago," promised Will, "Don't be a stranger either. Drop by whenever you want. We can put on the ugly hazmat suits and clean out the tubes again."

Evelyn chuckled, smiled, and bid her final farewells. She would miss Will. His sense of humor and jubilant personality made it worthwhile for her. It was likely she wouldn't stick around if not for their good influence. He held open his arms.

"Goodbye hug?"

Evelyn smiled and hugged him, "Yes."

The hug only lasted a second, but it did seem to satisfy some raw pain in her chest. She felt better. Will smiled, misty-eyed.

"Never be a stranger."

"I won't," she promised. And honestly, it wasn't a hollow promise. But she had to move on to bigger and better things.

Meanwhile, at SHIELD headquarters, people were bustling back and forth but that was normal. Phil charged through the offices with a magazine in hand. It wasn't a national security threat (as was commonly the problem around the office) but it might as well be as far as his worldview was concerned.

"Well, I can tell just by looking at you that something has your tail in a tangle," said Maria without looking up from her computer.

"Evelyn's in _People_ magazine," said Phil, slapping the copy down on the desk.

Maria looked down and then looked back up, taking in Phil's face. "You don't look happy."

"I don't like the idea of her being under the lights like this," he said, eyes wide with fear, "She's already-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there," interrupted Maria, looking up from her computer, "Just to say, what did you think would happen? She went to an event with Tony Stark and is currently working on a high-profile project. She was going to end up in the limelight eventually. If not for this, it would be for her own projects. So, where is the shock?"

"But did it have to be on the arm of Tony Stark? Really?"

Maria picked up the magazine and flipped through the pages of the magazine until she found the spread on the event. It was hardly a headlining event, buried in the middle-back next to a giant advertisement for Nordstroms. The photo was in the lower left hand corner of the page, hardly the dominant one on the page and most likely thrown in there to fill up space.

"The photo is tiny, Phil," said Maria, "You can barely see it. Her face isn't even that clear!"

Phil still fretted, "I don't like her being exposed like this. It has very uncomfortable… connotations."

Maria scanned the article for a little bit and tried to find any mention of Evelyn's name. She finally found a very small blip toward the end of the article.

" _Stark Industries continues to promote the new clean energy department by attending this event with a representative of the arc reactor staff,"_ she took another look through the pages, "That's literally the only mention of her anywhere in the article. They don't even say her name. Most of the article is about how some performance artist was wearing a lime green latex bodysuit and how PETA splashed red paint on some actress for wearing fur. Evelyn is just not a highlight. Not remotely."

Phil sighed, shaking his head, "She's lucky. She's very lucky that she attended the right event at the right time so this isn't an issue."

"You know, if she continues working to become a doctor, she's going to get a lot more media attention," noted Maria, "And if you're taking it badly now, I'm afraid of how you are going to react later."

Admittedly, he hadn't thought about that at all. But now that she mentioned that, all his panic seemed a little bit silly. "But, still, I'd rather she was in things like Time or National Geographic rather than… People magazine."

"Because you want people to see her the way you see her," noted Maria, putting the magazine to the side, "You see her as a brainy little girl with amazing potential because daddies tend to see their daughters in the best possible light. But you can't control how other people are going to see her. Some people are going to see her as nothing but a beautiful woman. Some people are going to see her as a nerd. Some people are going to see her as just another ordinary person with nothing particularly special about her. And you can't control any of that, try as you might. And I can't help but wonder, either, how Evelyn wants to be seen by others. I don't know, maybe she appreciates being in a popular magazine."

"I doubt it."

Maria shrugged, "It's just something to think about."

The door clicked open and cut off the conversation before Phil could think of a response. Quickly, he shoved the copy of People magazine into the nearest wastepaper bin. Maria snorted to hold in her laughter. Evelyn stood in the door. There were bags under her eyes that Phil didn't see before today. There was a bit of a green-gray pallor to her cheeks, like she was under the weather. She smiled as she entered and the color went back into her cheeks a little bit.

"Hi everyone!" smiled Evelyn, "Sorry I'm late. The bus was running a bit behind."

"Miss Coulson,"said Nick as he stepped out of seemingly thin air. It always made Phil jump when the director decided to do that. "Are you ready for lunch?"

Evelyn sighed, shifting her purse on her shoulder, "Yeah. Um. I need to run to the restroom. I'll meet you downstairs."

Phil reached for the keys to his car but Nick raised a hand. "Phil, I'm gonna ask you to sit this one out."

He frowned, disapproving, "Nick?"

"I need her to make her own decision and not feel pressured."

Phil bristled a bit, "And you won't pressure her?"

Nick shot him a look that informed him, in no uncertain terms, to bug off and let him have his say. Phil grumbled something under his breath but acquiesced to Nick's request. "Alright. Have fun."

There were a few restaurants nearby. A Starbucks, of course, had a spot on the street corner. There was also a commissary on the fourth floor for agents. There were also two restaurants within walking distance. One of the two restaurants was a small steakhouse which always smelled fantastic: bread baking in the morning and the always alluring aroma of meat hitting a grill top and searing into a perfect, caramelized finish. The Millard reaction was truly a wonderful thing.

"So," said Nick after they ordered, "You quit."

Evelyn folded her hands in front of her chest, "News travels fast."

"It helps that we've been keeping an eye on you."

Evelyn resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. "So, you want me to join SHIELD, obviously. Make your case."

"What do you mean it's obvious?"

She arched an eyebrow and raised a hand to count on her fingers her observations, "Nick, you had me in a SHIELD sponsored day camp in high school. I've spent every school break around here. By now, I would be more surprised if you _didn't_ want me to join SHIELD!"

"Alright, fair enough," said Nick dismissively, waving his hand, "I'm sure you have given it thought."

"Of course I have. And I remember that I told you I would let you know my final decision after I graduated college," Evelyn sighed and looked out the window, "My only concern is with the amount of violence I'll have to be a part of. I don't want to be on the front lines like I was while at Xavier's school.

"We can train you in medic healing and recon so your time in the battlefield is minimized," said Nick as he reached into the bread basket for a crusty roll, "You would have access to our labs and the best scientific minds there are. Surely that is enough to encourage you to join."

"It is tempting," admitted Evelyn.

"You really aren't going to get a better offer for education and opportunity," grumbled Fury, continuing forward like an express train, "You received your bachelor's but with us you can complete your master's and doctorate in our med school track. I'm not just saying that as someone who is trying to recruit the best and the brightest."

"Even though you are," interjected Evelyn but she decided to keep her mouth shut when Fury's frown grew a bit more irritated.

"But also as someone who knows your father and what he wants for his daughter. He knows that this is the opportunity of a lifetime because he took the opportunity himself."

Evelyn paused and then spoke up, "If I'm going to join, I have some demands."

Nick raised a curious eyebrow, "Demands?"

"I want a salary for my time and funding for my pulse energy project. I have student loans that need taken care of."

"That _is_ a demand," he noted while he smeared butter on the roll, "That's not typical of recruits."

"I'm not a typical recruit," Fury snorted in agreement while she continued," I'm already published and if I have the proper funding, I can publish again. Those are all things which look good for SHIELD," she paused to try to gauge Nick's reaction before continuing. There was no real response other than vague amusement, "and that's ignoring my abilities, which I know is why you are really here."

Nick's eye narrowed at her a bit, "That's not the _only_ reason."

Evelyn's lip turned up a bit, dubious. "So, do we have a deal or no?"

"Damn it all," grumbled Fury under his breath, "We'll take care of the student loans, alright? I've already talked about patenting your idea. This way you can get that going and start making money off of your ideas. Guess where that money is gonna go! Right into your bank account so you can take care of your schooling or whatever you want. Gamble it all away in Atlantic city for all I care! The point is, if you do this right, you can be sitting pretty by the end of your commitment. You can make your ideas work for you."

"Okay," muttered Evelyn under her breath, "Then… I guess I'm in. When do I start?"

"As soon as we're done with lunch. There is a helicopter back at the shop and a jet at the local airport."

"But… my stuff."

"Packed."

"Packed?"

Nick shrugged, "We anticipated that you would say yes."

"But... my job!"

"You've already quit."

"Well, yes, but I was anticipating waiting around for a someone to take my place."

"You're an intern. You're highly replaceable. I think they will deal," said Nick. He smiled and shook hands with her across the table, "Congratulations, Cactus. You're the newest agent on the squad."


	40. Pt 4 Ch1: Bullet Train

Frost tinted the grassy lawn in front of her apartment with a sharp, blue edge. It was fleeting, melting as the sun cleared the line of the buildings. If not for the fact that Evelyn was awake at this early hour, she would never see the silvery frost.

School was back in session which meant Evelyn was back for her master's degree. Classes started and already she was starting to feel exhausted and overwhelmed by the sheer amount of work involved. It was a little intimidating. Normally, she would be sleeping off the studying binge the night before. But she had an early-morning commute between her apartment and SHIELD work in Washington DC.

Although she had been around SHIELD for her entire life, this was really her first time as a full-fledged member and not as "cactus baby." She felt nervous, but excited. Nick promised her she could work on what she hoped would be her magnum opus. He had already began to uphold his part of their agreement by setting her up in one of the best online school in the business. The courses themselves were hosted via video conference where students participated over a live feed and had one on one participation with the instructor.

Autumn leaves started to pile up on the train platform, crisp and crunchy. She shivered in the early morning mist and pulled her gray knit cap down over her ears to stave off the chill. The cold shocked her awake so she could get homework done on the train. She was taking an advanced programming course. She could do the bulk of her assignments on her brand new, top-of-the-line laptop. It came with the job. It also had the SHIELD eagle insignia on it. Badass.

"So is that C+ or… what?"

Evelyn followed the voice to a seat across the aisle. A boy with silvery wire framed glasses and messy dark hair was looking at her screen. Instinctively, she tilted it back to hide her work.

"No, it's Java."

"Oh, I was just curious because I've done some programming myself."

"That's nice."

He didn't say anything for a minute. Evelyn felt confident she had cauterized the conversation before it could go too far. She continued her work. She consulted the programming book propped up against the window before submitting her code.

"I'm Graham, by the way."

Couldn't he tell that she was trying to work on something and had no interest in paying any attention to him? Evelyn considered giving him a false name just so he couldn't follow up on her. On second thought, that seemed to exhausting. She didn't feel like spinning a story that she would forget once the train stopped. There were more pressing things which needed her attention.

"Evelyn."

"Nice to meet you."

She didn't share the sentiment but a little voice in the back of her head reminded her not to be rude. So she returned the statement and then returned to her homework.

"So, are you a student?" He inquired.

She sighed, closing her laptop in frustration before responding. "Yes."

"Oh, Cool! I go to William and Mary. Studying secondary education."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm hoping to teach high school math."

"Uh-huh."

"So, uh, what's taking you up to DC?"

Evelyn put down her book and looked him dead in the musky gray eyes for the first time in the entire exchange. "I'm meeting my boyfriend."

"Oh."

That shut him up. He excused himself to the dining car and Evelyn didn't see him again for the rest of the trip. She doubted that she would have to deal with him everyday. She made a face as she imagined replaying this same scene again and again. It would be all sorts of annoying.

When the train pulled into the station, she collected her one bag and scanned the sea of parked cars to find Clint. He had a new truck now. The old one died in less-than-spectacular fashion. On a cold winter night, the car sputtering out in the parking lot of a Plaid Pantry. Clint stood in the cold with an extra-large bag of Doritos and two liters of Pepsi until Phil could come and save him. So, Clint bought himself a small Toyota truck. It was a pretty forest green and had tan leather seats with butt warmers. The butt warmers were amazing in the chilly weather. SHIELD also sprung for a few added security features in his car like GPS and remote start.

"Hey," smiled Clint as she climbed into the cab, "How'd the train trip go?"

"Fine," she sighed as she shut the door with a bit more force than she intended. She shot him an awkward look and nestled into the seat. Whoever invented butt warmers was a damn genius.

"Just fine?"

"Pretty much."

Clint looked in his rearview mirror, "Who's the guy?"

"What guy?" She asked, confused.

"The one who was watching you when you left the station."

Evelyn followed his gaze in the rearview mirror, "Oh. Some guy on the train. His name was Grant… Graham? Whatever. Something like that. He was annoying me. I told him I was meeting my boyfriend to get him off my back."

Clint shot her a sideways glance and a smirk, "I'm flattered."

She punched his arm playfully, "Shut up."

"Just sayin-"

"Drive!"

"You could have said you were meeting your dad," he noted as he put the car into gear.

"How about we change the subject instead?" She interrupted, "Like where am I going for this thing?"

"Well, that's easy. Usually you have to go to SHIELD academy in Bethesda. You have to have at least two years experience there until they even consider putting you on a team. Or, you can go to Quantico and start doing training in analysis but most people who take that path end up in admin. Not recommended if you want to do field work. You have two years worth of SHIELD work already and your bachelor's degree, so you go to the grown up table. Which is good. No dorms, no hazing, no assholes trying to prove themselves."

"Great."

"Fury has more details on the thing. I'm not going to steal his thunder," explained Clint as they turned onto the highway. "He has this whole lecture prepared with note cards and PowerPoint slides."

It turned out the PowerPoint was an exaggeration but everything else was pretty much spot on. As they walked through the entrance promenade, Nick launched into his spiel.

"It's a fast-track program," explained Nick. He handed her the thick, spiral bound training handbook to page through. "It's the same program that we used for Barton and Romanoff. It's the worst experience of your life. But, you will learn everything that you need to know in your designated field in under two years. In your case, I am assuming it will be medical."

"That sounds right."

"Your training will focus on medic and recon roles," continued Nick. He wasn't actually looking for any sort of confirmation. He knew everything anyway. Most questions he asked were rhetorical. "First aid, lifeguard training, search-and-rescue, advanced field surgery, languages. There will be some combat training but as a medic it won't be a focus. We will tag you as a medic. You won't spend too much time in the line of fire. People shouldn't be shooting at you anyway."

"Shouldn't be?"

"I make no promises, Coulson," said Nick, "you know that things get chaotic in the heat of the moment. There are folks who think the Geneva Convention was a meeting of expert chocolatiers."

"I'm not so worried about myself, I suppose," said Evelyn, "I have a tendency to melt bullets and stuff. I'm more worried about the person I'm trying to get to safety."

"Good attitude to have. Barton is going to be your CO and sponsor," He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "If you need something, ask him."

Evelyn smiled over at her friend, "Give me a break, you are my sponsor for this zoo?"

"Zoo?" Nick said with a great deal of indignation.

"Yup," smiled Clint, squeezing her hand with a cheeky wink. Nick left them to it and he went off to do director duties.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner, you big jerk!"

"I told you, I didn't want to steal the director's thunder. And, you know, I wanted to surprise you."

She laughed a little bit, "Okay, consider me surprised."

It was the start of a curriculum of grueling, regimented coursework. Mornings consisted of strength training and agility courses. Weapons training made up the rest of her day. Twice a week, she had to attend classes for medic training. She hurried to get all her certifications out of the way so she could move on to higher-level learning. By December, she needed to pass her fitness and agility courses (easy), CPR and first aid certification (also pretty easy), and complete the testing for her handgun permit (not so easy).

Over the next week or so, the firearms training became the bane of her existence. She went out of her way to avoid weapons training. Clint dragged her out to the range to force her to practice. The day of her exam loomed like a nor'easter over the choppy waters of the north Atlantic. She could see it coming, inevitable, but the only way she could handle it was to prepare as best as possible. As the test grew closer, she became more and more anxious. Smears of purple started to appear under her eyes from lack of sleep. There was a slight involuntary twitch to her eyeball.

She trembled as the cold metal pressed against her fingers. No matter how long she held the gun, it stayed cold as a piece of carved ice between her hands. Frostbite seemed like a real possibility. Her frozen finger pulled the trigger.

BLAM! Miss. BLAM! Miss. BLAM! BLAM! Also misses.

Evelyn glared down the sights of the handgun and tried to line up the shot through the sights. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, squeezing the trigger one more time. It struck the target on the shoulder. She couldn't help but think of the result that sort of damage would have on the human body. Bone cracking, blood spurting, muscles and skin mangled and burned. Right now the bullets struck foam and paper targets but eventually it would strike upon a person. She wasn't ready for that. Could anyone be ready for that?

"Well, step one," prefaced Clint, "Don't close your eyes when you're shooting. You need to at least give yourself _a chance_ to hit the target."

"It's loud," she griped, "It startles me."

"I don't blame you. That's why I stick with archery. Silent but deadly. Like a fart in an elevator."

Evelyn set the gun down on the table and then glared down at it at it like it was the gun's fault she couldn't hit the target. Clint noticed she wasn't laughing at his joke and he tried to tilt his head to look her in the eyes.

"Hey, you okay?"

"It bothers me," she said, adjusting her goggles, "Do you remember back when we were kids and you were talking about how you had to go through a lotta soul-searching to be able to shoot someone?"

Clint's face crinkled as he tried to think, eyes wobbling toward the ceiling as he pondered it. The answer was not written on the ceiling, but he seemed to think it was. "That was, like, ten years ago."

"You remember what I'm talking about, though?"

"I remember. But what does this have to do with anything?"

"Well," Evelyn sighed deeply. "I've been doing my soul-searching. And I'm not so sure that if it came right down to it, I would be able to kill someone. When I look at a body being shot, I can see all the carnage in my mind's eye. It's like an x-ray in my head. I can see the bones breaking, organs rupturing, blood vessels popping open. It's carnage. And it's a difficult image to get out of your head once it is in there. And I did make a promise to do no harm willingly. It's really hard to rationalize these two opposing forces."

Clint was quiet for a long moment, thinking. He rubbed the back of his head for a moment before speaking. "I guess… I really don't see it the world the same way. I'm not a doctor. But you are. So, yeah, it kinda makes sense that you would see it that way."

"You see my predicament, then."

"I guess I do."

"So how do I fix it?"

"It's a matter of perspective, Evey. If your goal is to kill someone, then yes, you are not a good shot. If all you are doing is disarming your opponent, that's different. You need to give yourself a chance to survive. Since you're a medic, you have someone else in your care who needs watching over. You need to be able to protect your escorts in addition to yourself."

Evelyn frowned, "I get it, but it seems… I don't like the idea of hurting someone who has a family and stuff, you know?"

"Well, I can tell you right now," said Clint, "The guy shooting at you, isn't going to have that same kind of hangup. He's going to shoot to kill. If you don't return fire, you're just making his job easier by making yourself more of a target."

"Okay, I sort of get it," she muttered, "I still don't understand why I can't just use my abilities. But, you know, fine."

"If nothing else, you need to know how to aim to disarm your opponent so you don't kill someone with bad aim."

Evelyn bristled, "That's not funny."

"I wasn't trying to be funny. Just giving you perspective," he smiled at her, "Let's reload and try it again."

She picked the gun up like it was a snake, holding it at arm's length and with a look of absolute disgust on her face. The second round of target practice was a bit better than the previous one. She landed a hit within the target but her hands sweat and shook so the other two were less precise. Clint stood behind her, his arms lining up along hers. His dry, callused fingers adjusted her slippery grip.

"You're doing alright. You just gotta make sure you keep loose. Don't fight the recoil. Move with it and reset." He helped her adjust her hands as he continued to speak, "You aren't gonna be able to pop a whole clip as fast as Nat does. So, take it easy. Line up your shot. You know, if you get the first shot right, then you won't need to take any more. You feel me?"

"Yeah."

She fired and the bullet found its mark but once Clint let go, she was back to wild shots with no rhyme or reason. Holding a gun felt bulky and awkward in her hands even with Clint's adjustments. Her fingers were not made to fit in the spaces.

"Shit!" She cussed as she looked at the sheet. It was a mess and she didn't need this kind of stress. She turned to Clint, "How do you do it?"

"Well, it's a bit instinct. Some people have a knack for it, some don't. But that doesn't matter. You can learn. It just takes practice. You gotta keep working at it until you get it."

"Yeah, I know," nodded Evelyn. Her eyes felt tired and unfocused from staring down the narrow lane.

"And you're already doing better. Your spread has closed a bit just today. Keep working at it and you will be in your proper range soon. And then once you test out, you test out. You never have to worry about it ever again."

He was one to talk. Clint had no problem with his aim. He put arrow after arrow after arrow dead in the center of the target so the sheet looked a bit like a pincushion. His aim was impeccable. Once, she saw him throw a paper clip and knock a fly right out of the air. They decided to wrap up for the day before she got too discouraged. He organized the arrows in his quiver. Evelyn disassembled her service gun to return to requisitions.

"I've been meaning to ask, why did you change your mind?"

"What?" she asked, taking the off the bulky ear protection. She had forgotten she put it on. She was also stalling.

"Why did you decide to leave Stark Industries?"

Evelyn felt her face growing red. She took a drink from her water bottle to stall and refresh her dry mouth. "I just... thought I would be more useful here. I also felt bad about Dad. He has a lot of stuff around the house that needed done and I thought I could help. I don't want him lonely anyway."

His eyes narrowed a bit. "Bullshit. Your dad is doing fine. He can handle himself and he has an awesome girlfriend to keep him busy. What's really going on?"

Evelyn was quiet, gathering up pieces of the gun and packing them away in the training case. Clint grabbed a part away from her. She grabbed for it but he held it out of reach.

"Answer me, Evey."

"You are such an ass," she snapped, snatching it out of his hands, "Fine. Stark wanted something that I didn't feel ...comfortable giving."

Clint's face screwed up into a confused twist. "The hell does that mean?"

Evelyn looked up through the fringe of her bangs, "You know what I mean."

Clint's face dissolved from sheer confusion into sudden realization. "You don't mean that Stark wanted... I mean, Tony Stark… he wanted..."

She snapped the case closed and scampered toward requisitions. Clint was right on her heels. "You can't be serious. _Tony Stark was flirting with you?_ "

"More than flirting."

Clint stopped dead in his tracks, "Did you have sex?"

"No!" snapped Evelyn, turning around, "God, no! I mean, I think he wanted to but..."

"Did he hurt you?" interjected Clint. A dangerous glare passed through his eyes as he stepped forward. "Because I swear to God I will _end_ him if he did."

"No," She scoffed, "He didn't hurt me. He just... insinuated what he wanted and I left. I didn't want to deal with it. It was just awkward and frustrating and I didn't want to be in that environment."

"That is excuse enough to hurt him."

Evelyn had to hold back a smile, "Down, boy. I can handle myself."

"Yeah, how come you didn't punch him in the face? You broke my nose just from... joking around. I didn't even touch you!"

"Because you made me feel cheap and... he didn't. He tried to make me feel like I was somehow a little bit special. Which was... sort of new for me."

Clint was silent for a moment until he finally looked at her, "Ouch."

"Sorry, I mean not from you and dad and stuff but just… from… men… that I like… in a more… in a different way, you know?"

"You know I wasn't… I didn't try to… Evey, if ever I made you feel like I was…"

"Clint, calm down. That was years ago," she said, "I know what you meant, you were just being a kid. I know now that you are just… you are the kind of person who flirts. It's not mean, you're just… flirty. I get it. It's fine."

He didn't look convinced. "I didn't mean it to hurt you. I was just… I wasn't thinking."

"Clint, I forgave you a long time ago. It's okay."

"But, you should feel special," he said, "I mean, you are special. You shouldn't feel like you aren't."

"You're sweet. But you don't have to try to make me feel better."

"I'm not! I mean, I am. But I'm not just blowing sunshine up your ass."

She sighed, "I know what you're trying to do, but please don't. I don't wanna hear it right now."

Clint was silent even though she could see him straining to keep his mouth shut. Her chest felt heavy as she sat down. After a moment Clint sat next to her. They sat there in absolute silence for a full minute. Evelyn struggled to assign words to thoughts and come up with something coherent.

"Look, I'm bad at the whole dating thing. Abysmal, really. So, I just don't want to deal with it right now. I'm here. I'm in SHIELD. I just want to do my work and finish my schoolwork so I can get my degree. Maybe in the future it will be different but I'm not interested in anything right now. I don't wanna date. I don't wanna flirt. I have stuff to do."

Clint was quiet following her rant. He seemed to be having trouble putting his own thoughts together. At long last, he spoke. "I don't blame you for thinking that. I know it's been tough. I just don't want to see you gettin' cynical about it. Don't go swearing off men just because you got burned by a few."

"I don't know," said Evelyn, "I've had people take advantage of me one too many times. It's one thing if it didn't work out, it's another thing when someone exploits your feelings. And this is the second time that's happened. That's two times too many."

"But not everyone is a complete bastard. I'd like to think I'm not. Most of the time." That got a little smile out of Evelyn and he continued. "Please, just, don't give up yet. I understand focusing elsewhere but, you never know. There are nice guys out there."

Evelyn nodded. She wasn't being fair. But it felt like someone stabbed her in the heart. Not right now. The pain wasn't fresh and raw anymore. The pain dulled and became a chronic ache. No matter how much time went by, there would always be a jagged edge that refused to heal.

"I'm tired," she groaned, letting her head slump forward toward her chest. Clint put an arm on her shoulder and pressed his forehead against hers. "Hey, let's… go do something else right now. Let's go to the caf and get some food. Nat'll meet us there when she's done with her stuff."

Lunch was a brief reprieve from work, but it was not long enough for her tastes. It was back to work far too soon and she had to get to working on mind-numbing fitness training.

Pullup, pushup, squat. Repeat and repeat and repeat until the end of time. Her brain was starting to feel like it was melting out of her ears. It wasn't that she didn't like working out, but calisthenics were not her cup of tea. She preferred jogging. She could jog forever. Her mind wandered in those moments. She could review medical vocabulary or how a circuit works. She could lose herself in the moment and emerge enlightened.

This was not something she could do in the middle of a rope climb. Her thighs and hands were starting to itch from the rough jute rope. Vertigo tugged at the edges of her eyes. Tunnel vision started to set in and anything not right in front of her dissolved into blackness. Her stomach swirled to the point where she felt she was going to throw up right there. She prayed for the experience to just end already.

"I hate this," she whimpered, trying hard not to look down.

"Hurry up, Coulson!" yelled Agent Pendergast at the bottom of the rope.

Evelyn tried not to think about how far way her voice sounded. Squeezing her eyes (and thighs) together, Evelyn tried to come to her senses. Her insides were tying in knots and her heart shook with fear. She tried to swallow her terror as best as possible.

Gathering her wits, she yanked on the rope to pull herself up the rest of the way. It should have been enough to reach the top of the rope. Should have been, but it wasn't. She overestimated the strength she needed to finish the task. The metal joint on the top of the suspended rope groaned, screeched, and broke. A scream froze in her throat as the relative stability of the rope collapsed under her. She blacked out for most of the fall out of sheer terror.

The impact of her back against the mats knocked the wind out of her, leaving her dazed and panting as the thick rope coiled around her. Stars swirled around her head like a cartoon. Limbs felt like jelly and she had a hard time pulling herself up to a seated position. When she moved, the vertigo returned and sickness swelled in her throat once again.

"I'll admit, I did not see that one coming." She finally became aware of Agent Pendergast's voice, "Barton, come pick this up."

Evelyn bristled, seeing red. She wanted to express her indignation at this condescending dismissal. After all, she was a human being with ears and eyes and _feelings_. She did not appreciate anyone who treated her like an inanimate object. Clint picked up one end of the rope and then offered a hand to help lift her up. She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. She wobbled, trying to reorient herself in space. Right now she felt completely topsy-turvy and it made her feel queasy.

"I don't think she likes me."

"She's a drill instructor," offered Clint, "She doesn't like anyone."

He intended to make her feel better but it didn't. How awful was it when your job required you to be mean to everyone? What kind of life was that? How could you sleep at night?

When she voiced these thoughts, Clint just shrugged. "Don't take it personally."

"It just seems like they work me so much more than the others. Everyone else gets one of these ninety minute workouts, and I have to do two of these."

"Well, you are stronger than anyone else," noted Clint. "You might need a longer workout to get the same effect."

"Yeah, but I'm not graded at a higher level. I could test out of the fitness and agility tomorrow if they would let me. Besides, when will I ever have to use my full strength?"

"Perhaps they're testing you. Maybe they are looking for biometric data and trying to figure out your limits. They need to push you to know how far you can go. I know they did that sort of thing with Nat when she first joined."

"Why don't they just tell me about it, rather than being stupid and passive-aggressive? I don't like this wishy-washy, beating around the brush _bullshit_ that I have to deal with!"

"Get used to it. Being a spy means dealing with a lot of people not being straight with you. I don't make the rules."

Evelyn sighed and rolled her eyes, "Fury is lucky that I'm taking this as a challenge."

Clint smiled, "Maybe he knows you're stubborn and he's counting on it so you won't quit on him?"

"Yeah, that is a pretty 'Fury' way of doing things," she shook her head.

A loudspeaker announcement interrupted them. "Flight 236-C is now landing. Flight 236-C."

"That's Phil," noted Clint.

Evelyn didn't let him elaborate. She had been waiting for this moment for weeks. Clint vanished into the distance as she took off running for the helicopter deck. She raced up the stairs, leaping them two at a time when she could. She waved her ID card around to bypass security as fast as possible. A big, black helicopter touched down on the pad. It felt like a small eternity to wait for the passengers could disembark. One of the first faces to exit was that of her father. He looked tired, but well.

"Dad!' she called, waving her hand so he could see her, "Dad!"

He smiled, and all tiredness exited his face. He jogged over to her. When he was close enough, she jumped up and hugged him. His jacket smelled like it was recently cleaned. It was familiar and soft. She missed him.

"How's my girl?"

"I'm doing well, Papa. How are you? How's Anita?"

"Wonderful! As always."

They walked down to his office, chatting all the while. The trip was work related, something to do with one of the bases out west. He didn't go into detail about the mission but that was normal. All she knew was that he spent some time in Seattle and a little longer in Vancouver. Visiting Anita in Portland was a welcome detour along the way.

"I guess Anita has been quite busy lately," explained Phil, as they reached his office. He unloaded papers from his briefcase and filed them away. "They had a break-in at FMA."

"Oh no! Is everyone okay?"

"It happened after work hours so nobody was there when it happened. There was nothing stolen but they wrecked the place. It scared them but it seems like nothing more than mischief. It's possible whoever did it didn't know where they stumbled into."

"So… are you using SHIELD resources to solve it?"

Phil shot his daughter a look. "This isn't our jurisdiction. It would be a royal pain in the ass to try to allocate resources for something small like this. I did leave my card at the Portland PD just in case they found anything… interesting."

Evelyn smiled a bit. Phil turned his head to look her in the eyes.

"How are you?"

"Tired."

"Tired?" he smiled at her, "Already?"

She hated whining but her voice came out a little more sullen and petulant than she intended. "Basic training is brutal, even for the medical staff. I have to be able to pick up a two hundred pound dead weight and throw it over my shoulder and run across a minefield."

"Two hundred pounds is nothing for you," said Phil, "I've seen you pick up a Jeep with one hand."

"Yeah, but I wasn't dodging bullets and mines when I was carrying the Jeep," grumbled Evelyn. She massaged the bruise on her shoulder from when she fell off the rope earlier to make sure it was healing.

"Talk to me," requested Phil, sitting down next to her. For a few poignant seconds they sat in silence. Phil waited. Sometimes she needed a little time to put her thoughts together.

"I think I didn't expect some things to be as… hard as they are," she admitted, "Like, weapons training. I-I'm just no good at it."

Phil smiled, "You know you can do anything you put your mind to."

"Papa! I can't do it!" she blubbered, tears in her eyes, "I can't do it! I just can't…"

"Honey," Phil said, putting a hand on her shoulder, "What did I say?"

"I can do anything I put my…" she fell silent and wiped her eyes, "I get it."

Phil put his arm around her shoulder and held his daughter close. "I understand if it isn't one of your strengths. We all have strengths and weaknesses. But there are also things we _have_ to do. Our heart isn't in it and we may find it unpleasant. So, you can get upset about it or you can just… get it done. It's like ripping a band-aid off. Do it quick."

Evelyn nodded, wiping her eyes again. She seemed a little jittery still, picking at her nails all the while, but she calmed down.

"I get it. I think I understand."

"Think of how great it will be to finish," suggested Phil, "Think of that and use that to help you through this."

Evelyn shrugged, sighing. It came out a bit heavier than she thought it did. Phil paused in organizing his desk and looked at her once over. He took into account the slouch of her shoulders and the tiredness in her eyes.

"Is that all that is going on?"

"Yeah," said Evelyn, perhaps a beat too quick.

"Is… school going well?"

"Uh, yeah, class is fine. I get to take a psychology class this semester. That's going to be cool."

"Hmm," Phil nodded , looking his daughter over head to toe. He tried to find any small movement or sign that something was out of the ordinary. But she was already anxious about the handgun test. The obvious signs of stress could be nothing more than that.

Phil sighed, "Evey… are you happy?"

"At the moment?"

"In general."

She paused for a long moment, thinking over everything she had gone through. The brutal course was hard but it was more of a challenge than she had in a long time. First aid was boring but that was because she already knew this stuff. It would get harder once she got out of the basic classes. Plus, she had the benefit of her powers and abilities. She would find her own methods once she got out of class and into the field. Maybe when she could prototype her 'healing gloves,' that was another tool she could use.

If she was being honest, she would say her fellow recruits were a nice enough sort. Except for the drill sergeant, nobody was unpleasant to her. Nobody even mentioned the 'cactus baby' thing. That might be because they were too young to know. All in all, the future looked bright and the worst of the problems were temporary.

"Evey?"

"I, um, I may not be happy right now," she admitted, "But I see where things will improve. I miss academics. I miss the arc reactor. I miss my friends at the mutant lab. But I'm a bigger help on the ground here than I am filing paperwork at Stark Industries. If I stayed there, I would never get anywhere near medical equipment. All things considered, this is better."

Phil let out a rushing breath of air, "You know I only ever want you to be happy."

"I know."

"Well, I think I have something which will help lift your spirits." He handed her a yellow slip of paper with a number printed on the front. "You have a package in requisitions to pick up."

"It's my service gun, isn't it?" she grumbled, taking the slip from him.

Phil smiled, "You won't know until you go look."

Much to her great joy, the package was not her service weapon. Not yet. It was a large plastic tub sealed with clear packing tape. After Evelyn signed for her package, she made a beeline to the labs.

The box was like opening up Candyland for the first time. There were several bolts of black folded fabric, rolls of silver wire and solder, a can of flame retardant, and various assorted tools including a soldering iron and Dremel. Evelyn broke out in a smile. She had put in a request for supplies to get her started in the lab but she didn't know if she was going to actually get it. The hope was to use this to expand on the prototype gloves she cobbled together in her dorm room. Now she could make a real prototype and create something ready to take out onto the field.

There was a note on top of the contents. She pulled it out to read it first. On the top of the page was the typical SHIELD eagle logo and a bold heading 'from the desk of Director Nicholas J. Fury'. Below the heading was a note in the director's blocky handwriting.

 _Here are the supplies to get you started on your proposed 'medical glove' project. I am compelled to remind you that we usually don't approve of orders this large for recruits. You are an exception. We are investing in you. Complete this project and we will talk about doing something larger. Knock them dead, Cactus. -Director Fury_

"Okay," she smiled, taking everything out and placing each item on the table. She cracked her knuckles with a wide grin on her face for the first time in the past few days. "Time to get started."


	41. Pt 4 Ch2: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

Blue light burst forth from her hands: hot and sparkling like the raw end of an electrical cable. The concentrated beam struck the practice dummy in the chest. The force knocked it back a good three feet so it slammed against the back wall of the practice range. Evelyn turned and another beam of light shot from her left hand.

These tests proved her glove prototype was coming along splendidly. The tailor-made gloves fit her hands like a second skin. Silver wire ran through the fabric along the fingers. The wire gathered in her palm in coiled circles, further concentrating the energy to a point. The design helped with her aim.

To prove her point, she shot another beam, this time from both hands at once. The dummy was now backed up against the wall, pushed there by the force of the energy striking it. She could feel the warmth of the metal pressed against her palm but it didn't burn her at all.

Learning from prior experience, she doused the fabric with several layers of flame retardant. True, she only needed one layer to do the job but she was a bit paranoid. Having her hands burnt off was not on her bucket list. Taking someone else out with an uncontrolled fire was also a bad thing.

The dummies, however, were not flameproof. Chunks of plastic started to melt from the high heat they were subjected to. A thick, smoky odor started to fill the air. Evelyn took a step back and smiled. The design testing was going very well. Her hard work panned out and she produced a production model she could be proud of.

She planned to adapt this design further to focus it even further for surgical precision. Her mind spun with plans and ideas. For now she could only get the go-ahead for the combat model. No shock there, but she was a bit disappointed in their priorities.

Orders from on high were to see about fitting it with a portable energy source. That way people who didn't have the ability to channel energy through their hands could still use it. Most batteries didn't have the kind of output she needed to make it work so she needed to think outside the box. A week prior, she finished reading a book about Nikola Tesla (a bit of light reading in conjunction with her electronics certification). Her mind flit to fanciful ideas about wireless energy transfer. Maybe that was the solution. Usually clever solutions came to her while she was showering. But she would struggle to remember her brilliant shower brain storm once she put on pants and a bra.

"You're getting pretty good at that," noted Clint, pulling her out of her thoughts. He walked onto the range with a duffle bag full of archery supplies slung over his shoulder.

At the far end of the range a battered dummy was starting to lean and then fell over onto the ground. There were scorch marks on the back wall and an ooze of melting plastic dripped onto the floor. Turns out she didn't need a gun to ruin everyone's day. If only the firearms instructors saw it that way.

"You know, it's funny," noted Clint, "I realized the other night that your powers are sort of like the Force. You know, like Star Wars."

"I know what the Force is. And my powers are nothing like it. I can't move things with my mind or anything like that."

"But, like the emperor was able to shoot lightning out of his hands. That's kind of like what you do."

"What are you doing here?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Practicing," he said, like it was obvious, "I need to keep my skills sharp."

He donned an armguard and finger tab. It highlighted the deep muscles on his arm. He may have been a bit on the short and lean side but his strength was concentrated in his upper body. It was obvious just from looking at him. He started removing things from his duffel bag and setting them on the table by the range.

"You have three bows?"

"Sure. The two compound bows are for combat, but I got a soft spot for my recurve," he admitted, "I learned on a recurve. It's my… baby. God, I need to get laid."

Evelyn smiled, shaking her head, "Okay, I don't need to know that."

Clint strung his bow with practiced ease, a motion he performed a hundred thousand times. He tested the string a few times to determine if the tension was correct. Satisfied, he selected an arrow from the quiver. He took a stance, nocked his arrow, and fired. It struck the target in the right shoulder. In quick succession, he fired two more arrows. They found their marks in the knee. The final arrow plunged into the heart. The red fletching quivered in the rush of air as the arrow struck the pliant plastic of the dummy.

Evelyn smiled at him as she removed her gloves, "Do you _ever_ miss?"

"I never miss. Ever."

"I'm sure you miss at least once in awhile."

Clint snickered, "No. For one, it's a matter of pride. If you are going to use a neolithic weapon when everyone else has guns, you gotta be able to justify your choice. You gotta be the best. Otherwise what exactly are you trying to do? Why don't you just use a gun like everyone else? Two, I'm lousy at everything else in my life."

"Stop-"

Clint held up a finger to silence her. It was a trait he picked up from her father, "I'm not as strong or smart as you are and I'm not as adaptable or stealthy as Nat. All I got is my bow and my charm."

"That's not all. You have a bunch more to offer than that."

"I also know you like to flatter me," he smirked up at her. He tapped her shoulder with the fletching of an arrow.

Evelyn pouted. "You don't let me get into a funk like that."

"I know. I'm a filthy hypocrite," he said with a playful smile. He pulled out another arrow and it struck the dummy right between the eyes.

"How do you learn archery?" she asked, "I mean, how do you get started with it?"

"Barney and I started just skipping stones and flicking pennies at tin cans. I guess we showed some promise or something because Jaques decided to take me on as an apprentice."

"So, for the rest of us who didn't run away to join the circus, how do you learn?"

"Go to a range?" he suggested, "I dunno. I never learned official technique or whatever. Jacques said he tried out for the Olympic team. He told us he had learned from all these fancy teachers and important people. So learning from him was just as good as learning from a bigwig. But Jaques said a lotta things. I mean, Christ, he said he swam the English Channel. Another time, he said his father owned Roxxon Oil. He even said his uncle was friggin' Noriega. Truth is, the dude's a carnie from Quebec City. He's as far from Noriega as you can get. My point is, the guy's a lying son of a bitch."

"I thought the point was that you were self-taught."

"Yeah, that too."

"What's got you thinking about the circus?" she inquired, "It's been awhile since you've spoke about them."

" _Nothing!_ " He snapped. The color drained from Clint's face a little bit.

"Defensive, much?"

"Just a tad bit homesick, okay?" he side-eyed her as he changed the subject, "Don't you have your firearms test at the end of the week?"

Evelyn made a face at him, "Yes. So what?"

"Do you feel confident that you'll pass?" he pried.

Her face darkened, "Sure. I've gotten better."

" _Will you pass_?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, "It's a toss up right now. Most of the time I'm good but then nerves take over. I'm not quite consistent yet."

Clint sighed and lowered his bow. "Will you take this seriously? The more times you have to retake the test, the longer it will take to reach level four. You're not going to be able to go onto the field until you level up."

She insisted once again that she was going to be fine and he let the subject drop. They finished off target practice. Clint reminded her once again to keep practicing. He explained in no uncertain terms that he wasn't going to take the test for her or anything like that.

"Not that I expected you to," she said in parting.

Clint went off to do whatever he did. SHIELD kept him busy with all sorts of things that she wasn't allowed to know anything about. Now that she had a few hours of unsupervised time to wander around, she was going to try her hand at being a spy.

It wasn't that she didn't trust Nick. She trusted him because he father trusted him. He had pure, almost blind, faith in the director. The deep sense of trust came from a long friendship. It started when they were army buddies and lasted to today. They still met for coffee at least once a week to talk shop.

But that didn't mean that Nick didn't keep secrets, even from his closest confidants. Even her father didn't know everything there was to know. And Nick had been just a little too eager to get her signed as an agent. Also, what was the big deal with the little high school day camp? Nick seemed to be planning something. And for that reason, she decided to take the elevator ride up to administration.

Unlike most other aspects of his professional life, Nick's office was transparent and open. Wide windows offered a breathtaking view of the confluence of rivers. The travertine tile floor was immaculate, not a single speck of dust anywhere. The rest of the office consisted of stainless steel and glass. It appeared designed to attract sticky fingerprints. So she made a point not to touch anything unless she needed to.

Nick was still logged in to the computer. It seemed strange he would be so careless. But she wasn't about to turn her nose up at good fortune. She noticed a small scanner built into the desk, like the ones at the grocery checkout. Based on the smudged surface, she gathered it was a fingerprint scanner. There was no telling how long the account would be open before it timed out. She decided to dig in and take the moment to pick Nick's brain while he wasn't around.

SHIELD agents went all over the world on different types of missions. Information sharing was key. But due to the sensitive nature of the information, it needed to be extra secure. The solution was the SHIELD intronet. In essence, it was a mini internet exclusively for SHIELD files. Using the intronet required a special browser, known as MINOS. It was an acronym for something but Evelyn forgot what it stood for. SHIELD loved stupid acronyms. The special browser was not the only safeguard. Convoluted series of access codes and biometric failsafes provided an extra layer of security.

So far, so simple.

Nick had a higher level of access than she did. She could only access basic information files and the science server. Nick could see every scrap of data that went in or came out of the network. Knowledge was power in SHIELD.

Her first impulse was to enter her own name into the network system. She wasn't surprised there was an entry about her. Granted, she did not expect the entry to be twenty pages long.

 _Evelyn Jane Coulson_

 _Evelyn Carlton_

 _Lightbright (see X-men filings)_

 _Cactus (see 0-8-4 filings)_

Evelyn rolled her eyes at her list of aliases. Someone (likely Nick) couldn't help but put a little note about her little nickname in there. She continued to read.

It was weird to read her own profile. The amount of data was staggering. Part of her wondered how they got their hands on things such as her transcripts. That stuff was private. She didn't realize it until later, but it wasn't as strange as she first considered. If you had someone on staff with special abilities, there would be _some_ data on them. If for no other reason than pure curiosity. Although she felt like a lab rat, it was reasonable.

Due to the fact she was skimming through her file, she almost disregarded the note at the bottom. It was in a smaller font than the rest of the file, almost an afterthought. It said "Initiative Candidacy: Approved."

"What is the Initiative?" she whispered.

It seemed, at first, that this was just name of the program Nick put her in during her high school years. If that was the case, it was nothing she didn't already know. But then she saw this section was active and being edited as recently as the day before. It seemed a bit unusual for an old file like that to be edited since (as far as she knew) that program was shut down once she went to college.

When she tried to follow the link. It lead to a master file entitled "Initiative Candidacy." There were a few names in a section labelled "approved." A few other areas contained redacted information. She tried clicking around the page to reveal the hidden links but nothing worked. She also couldn't find any sort of source code or Readme file to give her a hint. Her name was among them, as was Nat and Clint. There were a few other agent names but she never met any of them before. She clicked on them and they seemed to be ordinary agents coming up out of the academy. Nothing about them gave any clue about what the Initiative.

Digging further into the project files proved to be a dead end. Large sections of the menu were inaccessible without going through another layer of security. That biometric lock kept these sections cordoned off. She had an acquaintance with computers and computer programming. It wasn't enough that she felt confident trying to hack that lock. Maybe she would have to buckle down and learn more but it would do her no good right now. She mulled over calling Kitty for computer advice but that meant she could get into trouble too. It didn't seem wise to involve her.

"Shoot," she muttered, leaning back in the chair, "So much for that."

Still, the computer was available for her to use. Granted, it wasn't quite the goldmine she was expecting but it was still interesting. She has never heard of the Initiative before now. But she couldn't think of a single thing to look up. It was sort of information overload. There were so many threads to follow. It was difficult to pick just one.

On a whim, she decided to try something she saw in a movie once. She exhaled on the plate of security glass to cause it to fog up and reveal the last fingerprint. She ran the scan. It came up denied. It seemed the plate of glass was not cleaned between scans. The residual fingerprints muddied the glass. It was impossible for the scanner to read anything.

While trying to come up with a plan B, Evelyn heard the elevator door at the end of the hall ding. She stood, a cold sweat freezing on the back of her neck. Somebody was coming. Evelyn tried to find another door to slip out or something to conceal her presence. _Why was there nowhere to hide? What if it was an emergency?_ The door opened and Evelyn froze in place, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. Now she had to come up with an excuse for her presence here and right now her brain was failing her.

Much to her relief, the figure in the doorway was not Nick, but Natasha. Of all the people she could run into in his situation, Natasha seemed like the _last_ person who would show up here.

"Nat! What are you doing here?"

Natasha raised an eyebrow, "I could ask the same of you."

Evelyn fumbled to try to come up with an answer but could only choke out, "I asked first."

"I asked second," retorted Natasha, "And I think mine is a bit more pertinent."

"Not really. How did you find me?"

"What do you mean? You were acting suspicious as all hell," said Nat with a shrug. "I'm surprised the whole of the Triskelion didn't see you coming up here."

Evelyn felt slighted and stood up straight, "Excuse me, I can be stealthy sometimes."

Natasha raised her eyebrows, a small smile breaking off across her face, " _Sometimes_."

They continued to stare each other down in silence for a good long while. Natasha raised her eyebrow as Evelyn continued to be silent and hold her ground. She didn't have to confess anything. Technically, she hadn't done anything wrong. Not really. Not _technically_.

"Start talking," instructed Natasha. "Nick will be coming back soon and either you can explain it to him or explain it to me."

Given those two options, it wasn't too hard to figure out which she was going to take.

"I was just… I wanted to talk to Nick. I didn't know he wasn't here and his computer was open so I thought I'd… you know."

"Really?"

Evelyn shifted her weight from one foot to another. "I have questions. I want answers. It's that simple."

"What _kind_ of questions?"

Where to begin? Once again, she felt burdened with choice. She said the first thing which came to mind.

"What do you know about the Initiative?"

Nat looked confused, "There are lots of initiatives. You need to be more specific."

"I can't. There is just a link in my file connecting me to the files for something called "Initiative." I see you are on the master list, Clint, and a few other people I don't know. I don't know what it is but all our profiles are all lumped together in this one master file."

"Show me."

Evelyn led her over to the computer and showed her the menu for the Initiative. Natasha didn't seem surprised by the presence of this file. She didn't seem surprised by her name on the list. The only eyebrow raiser was the level of security surrounding the file. Natasha took a seat and started typing but she couldn't bypass the security either.

"It looks to me like it is just a workshop page," concluded Natasha, "There are dozens of these. Commanding officers use these to put together teams for assignments and missions. It's a place for them to cooperate and organize their thoughts. They don't open the files until everything is set."

Evelyn frowned. "Why keep the strike team plans secret from the people who are part of the strike team? I think it would be a good idea to let us know what we're getting into. That way we can contribute. That way we can do our job to the best of our ability."

Natasha swivelled in her chair, "There are lots of reasons to keep it from us. It could be top secret or a higher classification than the teammates. It could be something that may or may not go through. It could be a long-term mission. The team could be incomplete. Those are just a few possibilities."

It seemed reasonable. But there was a persistent, nagging feeling in the back of her head. Something smelled funny. Because she couldn't put her finger on what was bothering her, she felt compelled to let this go. It was difficult to argue something was wrong. She had nothing to back up her suspicions except vague apprehensions.

"So, uh," Evelyn reasoned. "Shouldn't we be going?"

"Fury is out of town."

Evelyn almost laughed. "Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"So… do you want to go snooping with me?"

Natasha smirked, "Might as well. What do you want to see?"

"Well," Evelyn mused, "You've seen my page now. Will you show me yours?"

Natasha looked surprised, "Mine?"

"If you're comfortable."

Natasha paused, considering it. Then she smiled a little. "Why not?"

There was no search engine or wiki for finding data in the SHIELD intranet. You had to either know the exact URL of the page you were looking for or you had to follow links through irrelevant page after irrelevant page until you found what you were looking for. It was tedious, but yet another way to keep secure files sealed up tighter than shrink wrap and prevent people from being too nosy. It was odd that Natasha was able to maneuver through the pages, entering in URLs based on memory.

"You're good at this," noted Evelyn, following up on a hunch.

"I've been around," replied Natasha with typical vagueness.

"For missions?" probed Evelyn.

"That. And some research for projects," replied Natasha, remaining infuriatingly nonspecific.

Evelyn decided to change gears and try to pull a bit more information from her. "How come you've seen your file and I haven't seen mine?"

"Because I'm level six and you aren't."

"Ouch," chuckled Evelyn, "Way to rub it in."

"Pass your firearms test and then we'll talk again."

Evelyn sighed, "You too?"

She was beginning to regret bringing anything up. The conversation was, thankfully, cut off before it could go too far. Natasha's page finished loading. It was a fairly large document smothered with many highlighted hyperlinks.

 _Natasha Alianovna Romanova_

 _Natasha "Nat" Romanoff_

 _Nadine Roman (see Czech files)_

 _Oktober (see LA Files)_

 _Laura Matthews (see Chicago files)_

 _Nancy Rushman (see Tokyo files)_

 _Natalie Rushman (see Initiative Candidacy files)_

 _Natalia Shostakova (see St Petersburg files)_

 _Natuska (see Oslo files)_

 _The Black Widow (see Initiative)_

 _The Red Bride (see KGB files)_

"Just how many aliases do you need?"

"As many as necessary," she said, "And these are just the ones on record."

"What are these for?"

"I could tell you…"

"But you would have to kill me?"

"Something like that."

Honestly, she wouldn't put it past her. According to the data in Natasha's file, she had at least fifteen confirmed kills. If Natasha said she could kill you and make it look like an accident, just take her word on it. They enjoyed digging through files. It did her heart good to find out that the drill sergeant that she didn't like failed her first fitness test.

Finally, Evelyn had to leave. She had a video conference for her electronics certification that she had to attend. Natasha signed out of the computer and they made their way back to the elevator. Natasha said she had somewhere to be too but she didn't go into a lot of detail. Natasha's idiosyncratic silence made the tiny steel box feel especially confining.

"So, if Nick is out of town, why was he logged into his computer?" mused Evelyn to break the silence. "I thought accounts timed out after ten minutes... or whatever."

Natasha turned her head quickly to look at her, "That is interesting. I assumed you hacked into his computer."

"I don't know anything about hacking."

"I saw you were doing computer studies."

"Yeah, in terms of electronics. Not in terms of… things of questionable legality."

Natasha snorted a bit, stifling a laugh. Evelyn turned. Honestly, she had never heard Natasha laugh at anything. She looked different when she smiled. Stern, cold eyes turned into something a bit less intimidating. She was still a bit wary.

"How do you even learn to be a hacker?" mused Evelyn, probing the waters since Natasha seemed to be in generally good spirits. "I don't think there are hacking majors at your local university."

"No," confirmed Natasha with a nod, "A lot of it is learned organically, by trial and error. It's a skill learned out of necessity... or curiosity."

"Is that how you learned?"

Natasha's face darkened a little but she continued. "I learned out of necessity. I had to learn quick or they would hit me."

"They?"

"Red Room," she explained. "It was a deep Russian spy institution. They trained us to be spies and assassins. Any skills we needed, we learned in the most blunt and efficient method possible. If you caught on, you were promoted. If you didn't catch on fast enough, you vanished. Nobody saw you again. I would be making assumptions, but it's not too far of a stretch to believe they killed the slow learners. They simply weren't useful anymore. Nobody wanted them around to gum up the works."

Evelyn was quiet as Natasha talked. She rarely spoke about her past. When she did, it was usually vauge. Evelyn knew some bits and pieces. Clint told her some things in confidence. But for the most part, Evelyn was surprised how little she knew about her friend. Natasha didn't seem upset by talking about her history. Or if she was she didn't show it. Her face was as blank and expressionless as a mask. It was as though she was speaking but she was not really hearing the words coming out of her own mouth. It took a long moment before she snapped out of her meandering solipsism.

"I didn't know," said Evelyn sincerely.

"Nobody does. I didn't make it common knowledge." She turned to look at Evelyn, "I'd prefer if you didn't tell anyone what I just told you."

"Okay. I can do that."

"Thank you," Natasha smiled at her again. This time it seemed a little more earnest and less like an expression put on to show.

"So," asked Evelyn, "Can I come to you if I need something hacked?"

"No."

They chuckled together as the elevator came to a stop. They stepped out onto the main floor. Natasha vanished into the crowd like a wisp of smoke into the morning mist. Evelyn didn't bother trying to find her. She hurried on to her own business.

The seminar was actually kind of fun. The instructor used the webcam to give a demonstration of using a circuit board and sent a bevy of supplementary material. Although Evelyn was a bit shaky about her electronics skills going in, she actually felt pretty confident as she logged off. It made her excited to post an order and get started tinkering. She had already typed up a list for requisitions. Since Clint was her CO, he needed to sign off on her requisitions.

When she walked onto the range to find him, it was strangely empty. That was a little unusual. Clint spent almost all of his free time practicing. He was trying to do all sorts of trick shots on the off chance he would use them in the field, such as firing the bow left-handed, behind his back, over his shoulder without looking, and so forth. But he was simply nowhere to be found.

The range itself was a high-ceilinged area with many criss-crossing steel beams. There were a series of metal stalls for everyone to stand in. At the far end of the range, a series of targets were painted into the wall, leftover from a time before the tracks were installed for the paper targets. This back wall was pockmarked with various sized bullet holes, another remnant of these old times. Peggy Carter could have put a couple of those bullet holes in the wall. It is probably for that reason that people didn't paint over and repair the wall so it looked more professional. There was too much history.

Right now, there was a gray foam ballistics dummy sitting on a stand in the middle of the lane, in front of the red painted targets. There was an arrow sticking out of it's eye socket. So, Clint wasn't too far away. Maybe he just went to the bathroom. Maybe he left in a hurry for a mission.

Her answer came quicker than she thought. An arrow shot down from somewhere high in the rafters and plunged into the dummy's head. Evelyn followed the path of the arrow up to a crook in between the beams. The area above the heavy industrial lights was somewhat shadowy but there were only so many archery in SHIELD.

"What _are_ you doing, Clint?"

"Practicing," said Clint matter-of-factly, as he wrapped a black nylon rope around the beam and knotted it tightly. "Not every mission is going to be on ground level. I gotta practice from every angle."

"That's not gonna be on my test, is it?"

"Not for your handgun test," assured Clint as he repelled from the ceiling. "But if you go into rifle training, yeah."

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen," said Evelyn with confidence.

Clint grunted as he landed back on terra firma, "Who knows, you might surprise yourself."

"I don't like heights, especially when there are no handrails."

"It's not that big of a deal," said Clint as he yanked on the rope to loosen it. "Besides, falling never killed anyone. Stopping is the bad news."

"Can we not talk about it?" she muttered, "I need you to sign something."

She handed him the pink requisitions form. Clint didn't look at it at all. He just took the pen she offered and jotted down his haphazard signature. If she was much more of a manipulative person, Clint would be the perfect person to take advantage of because of his good nature.

"This stuff for your science… thing?"

"Yeah. I had a seminar this afternoon and I want to try some stuff out."

"Oh, yeah, Nat was telling me about that. She said you two were snooping around."

Evelyn sighed, "Do you two share _everything_ with each other?"

"Not everything. Just a lotta things," said Clint, a bit defensively, "So, what were you doing?"

"You already know if you were talking to Nat," said Evelyn, rolling her eyes as she tucked the paper back into her purse.

"I do. But I'm a bit curious _why_ you went snooping and _what_ you plan on doing when Fury finds out."

"When?"

"When."

Evelyn paused to look at him for a long moment while she mulled over that thought, "Okay, whatever. Fury is up to something and I wanted to know what."

"Okay," said Clint slowly, "Tell me something I don't know."

"I mean with us. I was… looking around and he's keeping tabs on you, me, Nat, and some others. He's planning some kind of special strike team."

"Okay," repeated Clint as he selected an arrow from a pile sitting nearby, "They do that sort of thing now. They do psych profiles and stuff to make sure teams work together well. You got a lotta big personalities in one place, so you gotta make sure they won't get pissed off at each other. Like putting you and Rumlow together would be a real bad idea. You might burn his face off rather than just his arm."

"I mean, more than the usual team building stuff," clarified Evelyn. She felt her face turning red at the mention of the Rumlow incident. "It's a full-fledged operation with an official name and everything."

"So, what's the big deal? You, Nat, and I workin' together sounds great!"

"Well,' she considered, "I guess I'm just wondering what Fury's angle is. He seemed a little bit eager to bring me back into the fold. And he had me in that little day camp thing when I was a teenager. What exactly does he want from me? I think I have the right to know. It's my life after all."

He started twirling the arrow shaft between his fingers, "I dunno. But there's a lot that Fury just doesn't talk about. It may be sensitive. It may be that whatever it is, it's just an idea and won't go anywhere. Or maybe it's a work in progress. Who knows?"

"You know, that's exactly what Natasha told me."

Clint shrugged, "Maybe Natasha's right."

Evelyn responded with a scoff, "I would have thought you two would have been more paranoid about this than I am. Why am I suddenly the crazy one?"

"There's a difference between being cautious and being delusional."

"I'm delusional now?"She bristled.

"No! I mean," he pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing, "There's no sense in not trusting your friends. Nick means well. So do lots of the officers, like your dad. I trust them to do the right thing. So, let's… just… remember who we are actually fighting. If we start picking fights internally, then where will we be? We'll be too busy snapping at each other and let the real issues go."

Evelyn crossed her arms tightly across her chest, " _Fine._ "

"I'm not trying to be a pain in the ass," insisted Clint, seeing her not quite letting go of the issue, "I'm just saying… let's pick our fights. Alright?"

Evelyn was having a hard time coming up with a counter-argument to anything Clint said. Her father tended to be an impeccably good judge of character. And, honestly, Nick hadn't done anything to give her reason _not_ to trust him. Yes, he had secrets but none of those secrets hurt anyone. As far as she knew, at least. There was no real rebuttal that she could come up with to explain why she felt so suspicious. It was just a vague feeling and a few faint glimpses at confidential files.

"Did you see Fury's slippers while you were snooping around in his office?" asked Clint.

"No. What about his slippers?"

"The rumor is that the director has a pair of bunny slippers for his downtime."

"They're tartan," announced a rumbling voice behind them.

Evelyn and Clint turned quickly to see Fury standing in the door. All the color drained from Clint's face and his adam's apple bobbed nervously. Evelyn wasn't much better. Panic made her heart thud in her chest. Just how long had he been standing there and how much had he heard?

"I thought you were out of town," blurted Evelyn.

"I was. Now I'm not. How did you know I was out of town to begin with?"

Evelyn kicked herself for her own stupidity. She _knew_ Fury didn't publish his itinerary. There was no way for her to know anything about his movements. And there was no good explanation unless she wanted to either admit to snooping or throw Nat under the bus.

"Uh, um… just a rumor," offered Evelyn.

Fury didn't believe her. He gave her the thousand-yard-stare of a hardened agent. The glare bored right through her forehead and stabbed into the back wall. But he said nothing. The smoldering judgement lingered in the middle of the room, like the last embers of the campfire. He was dubious, but it seemed also he didn't need to ask for clarification. His sharp gaze stabbed right through her and punctured the wall behind her. She cleared her throat, hoping Nick would get on with whatever he was doing.

"Do you have something you ought to be practicing?" asked Nick.

"Uh."

"A test you are having tomorrow?"

"Yeah, um…" Evelyn muttered. The requisitions form was burning a hole in her pocket and she really, really wanted to get back up to the labs. To safety. But Nick stood in the doorway, blocking her path.

"Go get a handgun and show me what you got, Cactus."

Evelyn wasn't expecting this but she went along and got a handgun from requisitions. Reluctantly (very reluctantly), Evelyn put the parts together and set herself up in a stall at the end of the range. She tried to remember all the tips that Clint and her instructors gave her. Her brain raced a million miles a minute so she was sure she forgot something but she couldn't remember what she forgot.

A loud thud echoed around the chamber. Evelyn stopped what she was doing to figure out where the noise came from. Nick stood at the door to the range, opening the heavy deadbolt on the door. The hinges squeaked from disuse, echoing up around the high ceiling. It sounded like a thousand clanging bells.

"Don't mind me," said Nick. He pushed the heavy door open. "Carry on."

Evelyn and Clint shared a look as Nick walked down to the end of the range, standing so he was facing the targets. He examined the bullet holes carefully, as though looking for something in particular. He seemed to find what he was looking for as he pointed up toward the upper part of the cinderblock wall.

"Back when I was about your age, the lanes weren't here yet," he explained, turning back to where the two young agents stood, "There was just a bench back there and the wall. It was a big day when the target track was installed and the bulletproof glass protection went in. State-of-the-art shit."

Evelyn was starting to wonder where Nick was going with this spiel. He continued, a shadow of a smile on his face as he reminisced. "Before that, we would come down here and drink soda and toss the empty bottles and try to shoot them down. Director Carter hated when we did that. There was always broken glass leftover."

He pointed up to the top part of the wall. Right underneath one of the fluorescent lights was a dent in the wall. It wasn't really a proper hole, like the bullets lower on the wall. If Nick hadn't pointed it out, she never would have thought of it as anything particularly remarkable.

"One day, we were shooting down bottles and a bullet ricocheted. Bounced off the wall and hit a guy named Bill Paulsen right in the shoulder. Damaged the rotator cuff. The poor guy was stuck in admin for the rest of his career since that injury prevented him from being able to lift anything over ten pounds. Director Carter gathered all of us up and gave us a piece of her mind. And then the new safety precautions went up. The bulletproof glass was installed and we had to start checking in and checking out our training guns. So, that was the end of that."

"Director…?" asked Clint slowly. He seemed to be wondering the same thing as Evelyn: where exactly was Nick going with this?

The director did not respond. The pair of them watched Nick in silence as he walked in front of the range. His shoes clicked smartly against the slick concrete floor. Scattered bullet fragments and spent shell casing sparkled and bounced as he walked through the sea of shining gold. Clint and Evelyn shared a look of confusion, the third one in about as many minutes.

Nick stood in front of the range so the target was just over his left shoulder. There he stood, unblinking, as Evelyn lowered her gun. His voice was quiet, but no less intense than it usually was. Evelyn felt her fingers unconsciously tense as he spoke. "Fire away, Coulson."

"Are you nuts?" she blurted. Screw decorum, she was about to swallow her own tongue in shock at this fresh batch of insanity. "I'll hit you!"

"Just aim for the target."

"But I suck at this! What happens when I hit you? What happens if it ricochets like… like… the story you told?"

"It wouldn't be the first time I was shot," he shrugged, "And besides, you can heal bullet wounds."

"Yeah, b-but not if one seavers your f-freakin' spinal cord!" she spluttered. Tears welled up in her eyes. "I am not going to do it! I am going to shoot you!"

"It's 'Director' when we're on the clock, Agent," said Nick, seemingly unaware of the seriousness of the situation he was putting himself in. "And I suggest you don't miss."

"I don't want to do this!"

She would never forgive herself if she shot him. Even if she could immediately heal him and the wound wasn't that bad, she would not be happy about causing the injury. She would have to explain to her father why she shot his best friend. And furthermore, Clint would never, ever, ever, EVER let her live it down in a million, billion years!

Evelyn took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands. She felt like a child for crying but couldn't stop the tears.

"Coulson," Nick ordered, his voice low and soft, "take the shot. Hit the target. That's an order."

Evelyn bit her lip to bring herself back to reality. She tried to steel her nerves and force the shake from her hands. Taking a deep breath, she lined up the shot. The target was just over Nick's shoulder. She raised her arms, staring down the sights to line up the shot as best she could. There was a shake to her hands but she pulled her elbows toward her body, locking it in place like a vice grip. She inhaled. Exhaled. Pulled the trigger.

There was a bang. Evelyn closed her eyes, waiting for the scream. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Surprisingly, there was no noise following the gunshot. No screams or groaning or anything like that. Somehow that made everything a trillion times worse. She didn't want to see what kind of carnage had befallen them.

"Evey?" said Clint quietly, "Open your eyes."

She didn't want to but she did so anyway. Surprisingly, Nick was still standing at the far end of the range with a smirk on his face. There was a clean bullet hole just over his shoulder, almost exactly where he instructed her to shoot. Sure she was more than a little outside the target, but it was well within the margin.

"H-how!?" she gasped, setting the gun down onto the table.

Nick slowly walked up to her, locking the door behind him once again. He didn't smile but the ends of his mouth were turned up slightly with something a bit like smugness as he considered her teary, crumpled face.

"You're not a killer, Coulson," said Nick, putting a fond hand on her shoulder, "But you don't have to be. Nor are we asking you to be. _Your_ target is not a person. _Your_ target is a circle on the other side of the room. Hit the target. All we ask."

"What about when I'm in the field? What then?"

"Your job is purely recon and support. You may have to use your gun to clear yourself a path. But most likely, Barton will be doing that for you," he explained. "That's why we put people on teams. So no one person has to do everything on their own. Everyone has strengths and weaknesses and everyone balances the other out. _Trust your team_. You will be okay, Cactus."

Evelyn wiped her eyes. She felt acutely aware of her heartbeat and breathing. She felt the adrenaline pulsing through her veins. A haze of heat enveloped her and when she looked at her hands as she brushed away the tears, she saw her nails were glowing blue. The veins in her hands shimmered.

Nick pat her on the back one more time before leaving. He was not one for hugs. Evelyn had never seen him hug a single person in her entire life. But he looked out for people. She felt ashamed for having took so long to realize this and really understand, but now that she knew… her perspective on Nick Fury had changed for the better.

Clint sidled up to her, smiling a small half-smile as the door to the range closed behind Nick. "Y'know, I think the director may be clinically _insane_. But he is also absolutely _brilliant_."

"You say that," choked Evelyn, wiping away a few residual tears welling in her tear ducts, "Until you are on the receiving end of a mind game."

" _But it worked_."

As she left the range, she felt a bit tired. It was a deep exhaustion which settled deep in her bones. It felt like she had been tossed into the dryer, set on 'permanent press' and left to tumble. Evelyn had twenty four hours to mull this over and settle her stomach before her test.

It took a little while but her mind eventually calmed, settling into determination. There was a task put in front of her and she was going to complete it. Nick's words wedged into her brain and the seed of thought began to grow. She kept her mind steady, almost blank, as she went through her test. Her perspective, clinical. Statistical points on a plot. When she walked away, she was quiet but with a newfound sense of confidence.

Clint was waiting for her when she finished her test, like any good CO. He perked up when he saw her walk out of the range and hand in her weapon case.

"Did you pass?" he asked hurriedly.

"Barely," sighed Evelyn, handing her the results page. Clint took and scanned over the results for a few moments.

"You did it! You're one of us now!" he smiled, throwing a playful arm across her shoulder. "We're gonna go out and celebrate!"

"What do you have in mind?"

A smile crept across Clint's face. It was the grin of a man with a brilliant idea. "We're going out. Bring your ID."


	42. Pt 4 Ch 2'5: 99 Bottles of Beer

It had all the hallmarks of a dive bar. The bartender (or more accurately, the person who happened to be pouring drinks that night) looked like they were in their seventies and smoked three packs a day for the majority of those seventy years. A bored mutt with a graying muzzle snoozed behind the bar. Floppy ears and sagging jowls drooped over the pitted floor so he looked like he was melting into the ground. He only perked up when someone dropped a piece of greasy burger or a shred of buffalo wings.

The bathroom consisted of a toilet stall with a shower curtain drawn across the door, rather than an actual door with an actual lock. There was a sink but the water pooling in the drain was murky brown and it looked like something green was growing in the depths. The entire ensemble was made all the more sleazy by a vending machine on the wall filled with condoms, mints, and chapstick.

It was easily the most disgusting, tacky place she had ever physically set foot in. From the sticky bar top, to a bitter and stale aroma around the bar, to the uneven floor which rendered the pool tables utterly useless, the place couldn't be described as anything other than a dump.

She tried not to touch anything, fearful that she might uncover something especially icky. Clint sidled up to the bar with the confidence and swagger of an experienced bar hopper.

"What's on tap?"

The bartender glanced over to the taps. His (her? It was difficult to tell) voice was more of a croak than actual speech so he sounded a bit like a bullfrog. "Coors. Bud. PBR."

Clint turned to look at her, "Which do you want to try first?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh…"

It turned out all three tasted different varieties of awful. PBR tasted like live yeast in water. It reminded her of the stuff that Logan used to drink. Coors and Budweiser both tasted like diluted urine. Between the two, she would have to say that Coors was slightly less repulsive. Maybe the beer was just cheap or maybe she wasn't a beer person, but she couldn't see herself drinking any of the three by choice ever again.

"Alright," nodded Clint at her final opinion, "So beer isn't your thing. Glad we didn't get a full pitcher of it, then."

Evelyn took a long drink of water to clear the taste from her mouth. She still felt like a thick film coated her tongue. She wasn't sure if it was the aftertaste of the alcohol or if the tap water she was given had something growing in it. Slowly but surely, this experience was turning her into a hypochondriac.

"How 'bout…" pondered Clint as he consulted the laminated happy hour menu, "Shots. Yeah. How about you and I do some shots?"

"I've never done shots," admitted Evelyn. She remembered one evening when her former college roommate, Laura, talked about doing body shots at a frat party. If she was being honest, the idea both intrigued her and slightly repelled her. But then again Laura was telling her about this when she was trying to study and she remembered feeling annoyed more than anything.

"Oh, yeah," said Clint with a wicked smile, "We need to do that then. A round of tequila here, please!"

Soon, Evelyn found a small glass full of slightly yellowish liquid placed in front of her. She started by taking a smell of the unfamiliar liquid and was hit full in the face with the alcohol fumes. The sharp scent was akin to having a knitting needle shoved up her nose. She reeled back. Clint laughed.

"Are you serious?" she snapped, disgusted, "I am going to put this stuff inside my body?"

"Well, not by itself. You gotta do a chaser," he explained, producing a salt shaker and a pair of greying lime wedges. He took her hand and shook a small amount of salt onto the back and then handed her a lime. "So, what you gotta do, is you gotta lick the salt off your hand, take the shot of tequila all at once, and then suck on the lime to finish it off. Got it?"

Evelyn looked dubious, "Why?"

"Because the tequila by itself is awful. You gotta doctor it up somehow."

"If it's awful, then why do we do it?"

He shrugged, "Because it's fun?"

Maybe it was fun for him to watch her squirm as she peeled a layer of skin off the top of her tongue and permanently destroyed her taste buds. She doubted he would like this, but Clint had his own shot in hand and was ready to participate with her. For the sake of camaraderie, she begrudgingly joined in.

She could honestly say that shots of tequila were not going to become a favorite. It felt like swallowing fire, scorching her throat all the way from esophagus to stomach. The salt and lemon cut the burn a bit, but replaced the sense with a dry and puckery feeling that she wasn't sure she liked.

Clint smacked his lips and then made a blubbering noise. When he turned to look at her, he was smiling.

"I'm surprised you are holding up," he noted.

"I think-" she coughed. Her voice sounded gravelly and low, like an old lady. She cleared her throat. "I don't want to do that again. Not a fan."

"Alright, well," he smiled, "We have to find something you _do_ like."

Clint ordered a multitude of shots. An array of multicolored shot glasses formed a neat line on the bar like soldiers in formation. A shot glass didn't hold very much liquid but she wasn't sure how much of this she could take before getting too drunk. At the same time, she wanted to take a quick sip of everything

From this selection, she decided she liked rum but as ambivalent about vodka. Tequila was okay so long as Clint didn't pick it out. Whiskey was an acquired taste and she was trying to figure out if she wanted to acquire it.

"It tastes like paint thinner!" she gasped between coughs after that shot.

Clint shrugged, "Well, that means it's the good stuff."

Evelyn stared at him in slack-jawed astonishment. The taste of something like nail polish remover stung her uvula like a peevish wasp. She coughed again to dispel the sensation.

"Give me strength," she muttered under her breath. "If this is the good stuff, then give me the bad stuff."

There were a lot of other bottles on the shelf. She tried reading the labels. The problem was, she wasn't familiar with all the brand names so she really didn't know the difference between them or even what they were. Jägermeister? What even was that? The name was familiar (she _had_ gone to college, after all) but she couldn't list even one ingredient.

When she asked Clint, he just shrugged, "To be honest, I haven't a clue myself. I think the stuff tastes kind of gross."

Evelyn snorted, "It all tastes a bit gross."

"You get used to it."

"Do I want to? How much will I have to drink in order to get to the point that I am used to it?"

"So many questions," he muttered, "I dunno. It depends. It was quick for me, I think. I just like the atmosphere and the… camaraderie, or whatever. People in bars tend to be really interesting, especially when they have loosened up a bit after a drink or two. You find out a lot if you just keep your ear to the ground."

It suddenly dawned on Evelyn that Clint was revealing a trade secret. People talked a lot in bars. People boasted. People gossiped. People held meetings in bars, often informal. They spoke freely and openly. If someone sat in a bar long enough, they would hear a lot of things. Some of those things may be interesting. Some of those things may be relevant to SHIELD. Some of those things may be national secrets or criminal secrets. All of a sudden, it made more sense.

"I think I get it," said Evelyn slowly, "I remember at Xavier's school, we… uh… snuck out. We stole some booze from our older teachers-"

"Evey!" said Clint jokingly, "Bad girl! I was supposed to be the first one to buy you a drink!"

"Relax. I don't think that one really counts. Besides, you are still the first person to _buy_ me a drink," Evelyn explained, waving away.

"Technicality!" Exclaimed Clint, slapping his hand against the table

"You win on a technicality, though," insisted Evelyn, "Don't be picky!"

They chuckled. Evelyn paused. Her mind was a bit fuzzy around the edges. "What were we talking about?"

"I don't know where you were going with that," shrugged Clint.

Evelyn sighed, trying to find the tail end of the thread she left off but her mind was already gone. She instead shook her head and took a drink of water.

"So, what about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. Where did you have your first drink?" asked Evelyn.

"I had my first drink in a dive in Omaha," he paused, eyes flicking to the ceiling as he reminisced, "That was also the same place where I first won at pool and felt a boob."

"All in one night?" said Evelyn dubiously.

He shrugged, "It was a big night."

Evelyn was about to ask who he groped and why when they were interrupted by the bartender announcing the evening's darts competition. Clint smiled, cracking his knuckles eagerly.

"This is my cue."

"We're not going to stay out past midnight. I have a busy day tomorrow," reminded Evelyn, checking her watch. It was a quarter to eleven already.

"I have a busy day too. But I really want to win that hundred bucks cash prize," said Clint with pleading puppy dog eyes. "I could do with a hundred bucks. Natasha's birthday is coming up and-"

"I got it," said Evelyn, "Go kick ass."

He smiled roguishly, "I'll make you proud."

The darts tournament actually lasted well over the promised hour. It was pushing one in the morning by the time they wrapped up. Clint was also much more drunk. As he kept winning round after round at the tournament, people kept buying him drinks. Some of them he downed quickly, making all manner of yowls as he finished the shot. Occasionally, he would hand off the drink to Evelyn and she would, begrudgingly give it a sip and then set it off to the side to be forgotten.

By the time the bartender announced last call, Clint was wobbling around like a bobblehead. Someone told a joke and his laugh was just a bit too loud. Someone accused him of rigging the game somehow after he got twenty-eight bullseyes in a row. His face became furiously red as he explained exactly how it was done and he didn't work at the circus for nearly ten years without learning a thing or to. When Evelyn walked up, his eyes went a bit unfocused and he rested his forehead against her shoulder.

"I'm not good to drive, Evey-pie," he slurred.

"Evey-pie?" she asked, incredulous, "Where did _that_ come from?"

"I dunno. You could be Evey-cake? Do you like that better?"

"Call me by my real name," she said, shaking her head, "Or I will call you by your middle name."

"You wouldn't dare! Evelyn… Christina," he wrinkled up his face, "No. That's not right. Janice? Elizabeth? Rebecca? _Fuck_! What's your middle name? I've totally forgotten."

"I'm not telling you. Not until you are sober," she insisted, "I'm going to try to get you a ride home."

He smirked, "You're so _nice_."

"Someone has to take care of you," She sighed, pulling her phone out of her purse. "Two minutes. Try not to do anything dumb while I'm gone."

"I'll be good," he promised.

She stepped out to send Bobbi a message. Surprisingly, Bobbi responded quickly that she was on her way despite the late hour. Satisfied, Evelyn put her phone away in her pocket and hurried back to where Clint was sitting on the curb.

The streets at night were dark and lonely. The neon 'open' signs at the local bars flicked off one by one. Only the amber streetlights provided any illumination for the street. High above the city lights, gray clouds obscured the midnight sky. A summer storm was gathering. Already the air felt sticky and hot. A few plops of raindrops started to tumble down from the heavens. Evelyn thought she heard a rumble of thunder in the distance but that could have also been a garbage truck making the rounds in the back alleys. Somewhere, a siren tore through the empty streets.

"I'm tired," whined Clint, pulling her out of her thoughts. He rested his head against her shoulder and pressed up against her body.

She responded by placing a comforting hand against his shoulder. "I know. Bobbi will be here soon to pick us up."

"Good. I feel sick.," he muttered. He made a gagging noise as soon as the words left her mouth.

Evelyn felt his diaphragm contract as he seized up into a full-body wretch. "Uh-oh!"

She barely got out of the way before Clint leaned forward and threw up right there in the gutter. It was mostly watery but smelled awful, like lighter fluid and an unwashed bathroom. Clint groaned and made another round of coughing, gagging noises. He coughed up a bit more of something viscous and mostly clear before he managed to regain his breathing and sit up properly.

"Are you okay?" asked Evelyn, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"No. No," he muttered, "I shouldn't have done those vodka shots. Vodka doesn't agree with me."

"I don't think it's just the vodka's fault."

Clint groaned and rested his head against her shoulder again. "But people just kept buying me drinks. It would have been rude to turn it down, wouldn't it?"

"I dunno, Clint," she said, smiling, "You know more about this than I do.

Fortunately, a pair of streetlights turned the corner. Evelyn squinted into the intrusive light but recognized Bobbi's familiar yellow Chevy as it pulled up to the curb. The car was instantly recognizable from the color and from the 'my goldendoodle is smarter than your honor student' bumper sticker. The unusual thing, however, was the strange man who got out of the car with her.

"So," said Bobbi with a wide smile, "You two had a bit too much this evening?"

"Well…" Evelyn looked over at Clint. He shrugged, head lolling lazily over his shoulders. "Yeah, I don't really have any defense for that."

Bobbi shrugged and offered her a hand off of the curb, "Let's get you two home before you get into more trouble."

Evelyn took it and was somehow able to balance her weight and her strength so she didn't pull Bobbi right off her feet. The strange man walked out from behind the car so Evelyn could get a good look at him. He wore khaki slacks and a short-sleeved polo shirt with black Nikes. She guessed he was just over six feet tall and in his late twenties or early thirties. Some of the mystery about him dissipated in the next moment.

"Everyone, this is Lance. Lance, these are Phil's kids," said Bobbi in quick introduction.

"Pleasure to meet you," he said. He had a prominent English accent but Evelyn wasn't quite sure where it was from. His method of speaking was very precise and clear. It fit his appearance: a neat military haircut for his sable colored hair, a jaw like the White Cliffs of Dover, and gray-blue eyes, the color of the Atlantic right before a storm. His spine was ramrod straight, shoulders pulled back like there was a coat hanger stuck in the back of his shirt.

"Same," said Evelyn, shaking his hand, "Forgive my friend, he's a bit… um…"

"Ah," said Lance with a chuckle, "I am familiar with the scene. Me and the lads have been on our fair share of pub crawls."

"Let's get him in the car," said Bobbi, rolling up her sleeves, "Clint? Can you stand?"

"Yup, yup," he muttered, trying to push against the pavement and heave himself upward. He wobbled once on his feet and fell against Lance. The other man put an arm under his shoulder to lift him. Evelyn mirrored the motion so Clint was almost suspended between them. Bobbi opened the door to her car and they maneuvered him into the seat. Evelyn leaned over to reach the seat belt and buckle him in. Clint rested his head between her shoulder blades and made a satisfied sighing noise.

"Clint, move," she ordered, "We need to get home!"

"Okee," he sighed, lifting his head so Evelyn could wiggle out.

"Keys, please!" requested Bobbi, holding out her hand as Evelyn turned around. Evelyn reluctantly dug through her purse and handed over her car keys. Bobbi flicked through them and found the right one in a second. "Thank you!"

Bobbi turned around to Lance and handed a different pair of keys over to him. These had a keychain with a fused glass daisy. It caught the light as she passed it over, sparkling in the midnight glow.

"I'll drive Clint's car back to Phil's place. Lance, you take the kids in my car," she said, placing her keys in his hand, "Just remember that we drive on the _right_ side of the road."

"You wound me," he said with mock outrage, "I am an impeccable driver."

She narrowed her eyes and smirked, "What about Monaco?"

He paled a bit and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. His voice seemed even despite his outward nervousness. "An exception which proves the rule."

"Whatever you say, Speedy," she said with a flirty grin. "I'll see you back at Phil's place."

"As you wish, dear."

They exchanged smiles once more before climbing into their respective cars. There was an obvious attraction between them. Evelyn was keen to ask but didn't know Lance well enough to prod too far. Maybe she would ask Bobbi about it later.

"So… where in England are you from?"

"London," he said, "Well, that's untrue. I was born in Newbury, which is just outside London, but I grew up in the city for most of my life. I fully consider myself a Londoner."

"What brings you over to this side of the pond?"

"I'm sure you all know of the big to-do going on," he said, still being vague enough that if they didn't know, he could easily backtrack.

"Yes, meetings," Evelyn responded, "My father is there right now."

Lance nodded, "They needed a few extra warm bodies at some of the auxiliary bases. I am one of those warm bodies."

"From all the way across the ocean?" said Evelyn suspiciously.

"I had some other business to attend to over this way," he explained, turning onto the main street, "And I never pass up a chance to visit the colonies."

He smiled, amused at his own joke. Evelyn decided to play along, "You are well over two hundred years too late to see the colonies."

"True," he acknowledged, "In all seriousness, however, I do enjoy visiting. A change of scenery is always nice."

Evelyn nodded but she was distracted. There was a pain in her chest at the level of her heart. Actually, it wasn't so much pain as it was pressure. It was like a bloating in her chest which pressed against her ribs and made her feel bloated. She tried to press a hand to her sternum but it did nothing. She figured she would take some antacid when she got home and maybe that would help. In the meantime, she tried to force herself to cough to make herself feel better. No matter what she did, it didn't improve her situation.

"Are you feeling ill?" asked Lance, noticing her distress.

"I'm not sure. I think I have heartburn but… I dunno. I've never felt this before."

"Just let me know if you need to vomit. I would hate to have to clean the sick out of the upholstery."

"I wouldn't want you to do that either," assured Evelyn, "But I think I'll be okay until we get home."

Fortunately, Clint's apartment was not too far away. Good thing. Any longer and she may have nodded off. Evelyn opened the back door of the car and was greeted by a loud, rumbling snore. He was out for the count. If she had a more devious mind, she would think of something funny to do to him while he was out. But she couldn't think of anything.

"Hm," said Lance thoughtfully, "He seems to be asleep."

Evelyn poked his shoulder. Clint made a groggy noise and snored loudly. "Yes, I think you're right."

"Well," Lance said with determination, "Should we rouse him or should we attempt to carry him?"

"Definitely try to wake him," said Evelyn, "I don't want to drag his sorry ass up stairs. Clint? Hey, buddy, we're home."

Clint made a gurgling grumble but seemed aware enough to try to push himself out of the car. However, he couldn't quite make it and Evelyn had to offer him a shoulder to lean on. Lance took the other side and together they managed to provide enough support that he could mostly walk.

"You seem to be holding up remarkably well," noted Lance as they carried Clint up the stairs.

"Thank you," slurred Clint, head wobbling from his neck.

"Not you," snapped Bobbi, flicking his ear. He shook his head like a shaggy dog. "He was talkin' about Evey, you dummy."

"Evey doesn't get drunk," whined Clint, "It's not fair!"

"I still feel wretched," she admitted, rubbing the burning part of her chest.

Bobbi looked over at Evelyn," How much did you have to drink?"

Evelyn considered it. Clint had bought quite a few drinks. She didn't drink all of them. She quickly tallied it up. "Probably about three beers and six-ish shots. Cumulatively."

"Holy shit! You _are_ holding it well!" said Bobbi, "Are you sure you counted right?"

"Pretty sure," assured Evelyn as she unlocked the front door, "Clint had little more than I did. Folks kept buying him drinks when he won at darts."

"You're lucky to be standing mate,' noted Lance to Clint as he lugged him inside and dropped him on the sofa.

"I'm still drunk enough to kick your ass at darts!" boasted Clint.

Evelyn snorted. Clint obviously got that one backwards but it was still funny. Lance shook his head. "We'll have to see about that another day."

"Let's get him some water," said Bobbi, shaking her head, "He's gonna get dehydrated and hate himself tomorrow. Lance, sweetie, get in my purse. I have some vitamin packets in the back pocket, next to the Kleenex."

"Yes, dear."

Evelyn spoke in an undertone as Lance stepped away to retrieve the item from Bobbi's purse. "How long have you and him been, you know, together?"

"Not long," she replied, "This is his first recreational trip over here. But we've known each other through work for years. Flirted a bit here and there on missions."

"So he's SHIELD?"

"SAS," corrected Bobbi, "But we have a lot of overlap. Co-op missions and stuff."

"He seems young," noted Evelyn. He was pretty accomplished for his age, if her estimates were correct. However, Bobbi bristled a bit at being implicitly called old.

"He's older than you," she said defensively, "But yeah, he is a teeny bit younger than me, I guess. But he's unmarried, he's straight, he doesn't have tattoos or weird piercings, and he has a full head of hair. Frankly, he checks off a lot of my boxes. I'm keen to ride this out and see how it goes. And he has abs like Tarzan, alright? Not just abs but ABS! I mean, _damn_ , I want to lick chocolate syrup off them. You know?"

She purred the last sentence like an advancing lioness, preparing to pounce on her prey. Evelyn spluttered for a few seconds, unsure of how to respond. She wasn't fond of ogling other people's boyfriends. That was a good way to cause trouble. But Lance was a good looking man, she couldn't deny that either. She didn't quite see the abs in question, Lance's polo shirt did not do much to show off his apparently mind-blowing physique. Lance seemed to either overhear the conversation or sense the two women staring at him because he turned from the sofa to where they were staring.

"Did you say something, love?"

"Nope!" Replied Bobbi with a wide grin.

"I thought you would be at the meetings," said Evelyn, changing the subject quickly to avoid the potential awkwardness, "Being administration and all."

"Oh, I'm not admin," said Bobbi.

Evelyn looked up, "Really?"

"Please! I would be bored stiff in that job. I got the offer a few years ago but turned it down. I would much rather do field work, where I can actually do some help," she explained.

"But you are always working with Dad and Maria and…"

"Well, I'm a group coordinator, so I work with admin but I'm not actually a member of that network."

Evelyn finally belched as she opened her mouth to try to respond. It relieved the pressure on her chest but tasted foul, like licking the countertop of a chemistry lab. Out of her mouth, a burst of blue flame escaped her lips. She slapped a hand over her lips and looked around. Lance and Bobbi were staring at her with wide open eyes.

"That's never happened to me before, I swear!" she said.

Bobbi shrugged, giggling, but Lance appeared flabbergasted. It was only rational. It was not everyday someone lit their own burps on fire. Evelyn blushed, embarrassed, and went about wiping down the kitchen counter to try to change the subject.

Lance, however, seemed somewhat hung up on the fact that someone just casually breathed fire in his presence. "I hate to sound imprudent but-"

"She's one of the metas," interjected Bobbi.

Lance's eyes got big for a second. "Ah."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, "Metas?"

"We don't call them mutants," explained Bobbi, "Partly because not all of them are. But also it just sounds more inclusive, rather than sounding like some kind of slur."

Evelyn's eyes narrowed, "What do you mean not all of them are mutants? Are they… like me?"

"I, um, said too much," muttered Bobbi. "You didn't hear me say anything."

"Bobbi! Please tell me!"

Bobbi sighed, "No, nobody exactly like you. But we have had some people come up who are just… different. But different in different ways. I'm afraid I can't really say anything else. But if we did find someone like you, believe me, we would let you know."

Evelyn sighed, "Way to freak me out."

"Sorry, sweetheart," said Bobbi, putting a hand on her shoulder. Evelyn shrugged. No change on the home front.

Bobbi handed something over to her. It was a small, blue package with red and yellow lettering. It felt squishy. She couldn't quite figure out what it was. Fortunately, Bobbi explained.

"This is the secret hangover cure I was telling you about," said Bobbi, "It's a vitamin B package. It'll help. Put it in orange juice tomorrow morning and it'll keep him from getting too sick. It's probably not a bad thing if you take some too, just by the way. I know you seem fine now but wait until tomorrow."

"Right," said Evelyn, taking the package Bobbi handed to her.

"Call me if you need anything," assured Bobbi, "Lance and I will be... around."

As she turned to walk out the door, she turned to Evelyn and mouthed the words 'don't call' with a wide grin on her face. Evelyn sighed. She could put the pieces together and figure out exactly what Bobbi was planning to do this evening.

"Once again, it was a pleasure to meet you," said Lance, shaking her hand once again. "If ever you are around London, feel free to drop by my office. We'll take you on a proper British pub crawl."

Evelyn agreed. When she withdrew her hand, Lance had slipped a business card in her palm. She put it in her pocket for later and saw them out.

Clint was already asleep on the couch, drooling into the throw pillow. Or if he wasn't asleep just yet, he would be soon. Evelyn retrieved a fleece blanket from the hall closet to keep him warm. He mumbled something as she tucked him in but it was too slurred to decipher.

She could move him to his bedroom but he seemed comfortable enough where he was. At the very least, he was too oblivious to care. Evelyn looked around to decide where she was going to rest her head. There wasn't a lot of space in the apartment but he did have an armchair and she figured she could make that work.

"Sleep tight, Clint," she whispered before settling into her own makeshift bed.

When she woke up the next morning, her mouth tasted like chemicals. She got up from bed to get a drink of water. The taste didn't really leave. She popped a few breath mints from her purse into her mouth to try to mask the taste. It didn't really change anything, just covered it with a layer of minty freshness.

Clint was still asleep, snoring like a hibernating bear. There was a wet spot of drool on the pillow, much larger than the night before. He snorted a bit as she passed, burying his face deeper in the pillow as he hugged it to his chest.

Evelyn checked the clock on the kitchen stove. It was just before eight o'clock in the morning. She had nothing to do until ten. She pulled a pan down from the shelves and started to make breakfast. Butter sizzled in the pan as she placed a cheese sandwich into the fat. It didn't take long before the scent of toasting bread and bubbling cheese floated from the stovetop into the kitchen. Clint stretched, toes curling as he slowly roused himself from sleep. He yawned once and then rolled over on the sofa so he could see the kitchen.

"Morning," he muttered, half stifled by another yawn. "What time is it?"

"Early," she said in response, slapping a sandwich on the plate.

"Is that grilled cheese?" he sniffed, gravitating toward the stove like a fly on fresh meat.

Evelyn spun the plate in front of him. "I learned in the X-men that grilled cheese helps cure hangovers."

Clint paused, rubbed the back of his head. "They teach you weird things in mutant school."

"Laugh now," she smirked, "But you will feel much better after you've eaten."

"Is that the doctor's orders?"

"Yes it is," she said, putting a plate in his hands. "Get yourself a glass of orange juice."

He accepted the plate happily. "Yes, ma'am."


End file.
